


Painted Hearts

by whatwasthatharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:49:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4796618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatwasthatharry/pseuds/whatwasthatharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story wherein Harry is careful with his heart and Zayn tries to teach him what it means to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painted Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hmarie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmarie/gifts).



> Huge thank you to my beta for putting up with me when I was struggling with the story and ended up writing far more than I originally intended. She's awesome, even if she did threaten to murder me in my sleep in one of her comments. And also a big thanks to the person who helped this characterization of Harry come into being and listened to me rant about it for ages.
> 
> Also, this story has side Lilo. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“No relationship can truly grow if you go in holding back. If you remain clever and go on safeguarding and protecting yourself, only personalities meet, and the essential centers remain alone. Then only your mask is related, not you. Whenever such a thing happens, there are four persons in the relationship, not two. Two false persons go on meeting, and the two real persons remain worlds apart.”

\--- Osho, _Intimacy: Trusting Oneself and the Other_

 

* * *

 

 

**_eleven years ago…_ **

_Camp Sundown, named because the campers all leave by sundown before returning the next morning, is Zayn’s home away from home in the summer. Since he was six his parents have been sending him here. Now he’s ten, and Zayn thinks he understands the whole system._

_He’s part of the Wasps this year, a boys group filled with other ten year olds. When he started at six, he was part of the Grasshoppers. Each year he moves up a letter to a new boys group because he’s older; the girls do the same. Sometimes there's two groups for a certain age because there's too many camper's to fit in one. He knows there’s the Junior Camp, for the babies who are 2-5, but he very rarely goes over there. He knows he has a Counselor and a Junior Counselor and a Counselor-In-Training. He knows if he stays long enough, he gets to be a CIT at thirteen and then a JC at sixteen._

_He knows Uncle Ben runs the place – all the older “Staff Staff” (as Louis has dubbed them) are called Uncle or Miss. He knows that each morning he lines up with his group on the basketball courts as Uncle Ben does the announcements, and on every Friday for eight weeks they give out awards – Best Counselor, Best JC or CIT, Best Camper, Best Instructor, etc. He knows all the different activities and places, like Arts & Crafts, Music, Dance, Swimming, Tennis, the Game Room, the Adventure Course, the bike course, the softball fields, the slides (but don’t go down the tube, there are rips in it and you’ll hurt yourself). He knows there’s the theatre and each group puts on their own little performance every year; it’s right next to the farm where you get to pet and feed the sheep. He knows that to get to the nurse you have to climb up the biiig hill, and to get to the nature trail or golf course, you have to go down two other hills._

_He knows that they should rename the camp Hilly Point._

_He knows this camp has absolutely everything and he can’t remember even half it, eyebrows always furrowing in deep concentration when he tries to explain the camp to his relatives or friends from school._

_He knows that when it rains they crowd in the Gym (some kids go to the air conditioned rooms as well) and always watch the movie_ Heavyweights _._

_He knows that Louis and Niall are his best friends at camp._

_He knows at the start of each day they mark down how many sandwiches they want for lunch (or how many slices of pizza they want if it’s a pizza day) and which kind, along with what they want to drink._

_He knows Niall arrives two hours early and stays two hours late in the Blue Group (that ones for the kids aged 10-12) because his parents can’t drop him off at the time camp starts or pick him up exactly when camp ends._

_And he knows that his counselor Mark sometimes kisses the counselor for a girls group the Hawks, Sam. But he’s not supposed to tell anyone about that._

_Zayn also knows that this year, there’s two new boys in his group that are whispering at the end of the line as they wait for Uncle Ben to go through the first day morning announcements._

_“Have they been here before?” Zayn leans over to ask Louis. Louis knows everything._

_He shakes his head. “No. But Niall talked to the curly one. His name is Harry.”_

_Harry’s got his arm wrapped around the other boy as he whispers something in his ear. The other boy gives him a shy smile and a nod before hiding his face against Harry’s shoulder. Zayn doesn’t know what they’re talking about, but he hears the other boy giggle a bit when Harry says something else to him, a little bit of light in his eyes now._

_*_

_It’s not until they have swimming in the early afternoon that Zayn actually talks to them. He’s sitting on the side with his feet in the water as the other boys do their laps, different Swimming Instructor’s working with each of them depending on their level. Since the day he got here, Zayn has almost always refused to go in the water, even when they called his parents. He learned the basics of treading water and that was enough for him._

_“You don’t swim?” he hears a voice ask, a shadow falling over him as the person steps in front of the sun._

_Zayn looks up to see Harry standing next to him, short curls now falling in front of his eyes as water drips from them and cools a small patch of Zayn’s heated skin. He sits down next to him and bumps his shoulder._

_“I don’t like the water,” Zayn says._

_“Why not?” Harry asks as though it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. It probably is, to him. Zayn had watched the way Harry walked through the gates to the pool when they got there with no preamble and proceeded to jump right into the water without waiting for an Instructor._

_Zayn doesn’t answer, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. Instead of getting back in the water, Harry sits there on the edge with Zayn and tells him about his sister, Gemma. He tells him about the pranks they played last summer, which sparked their mom to send them to summer camp this year (apparently, though, Gemma is at a different camp with her friends from school). Zayn tells him about his younger sisters. They learn that they go to different schools but still live close enough to go to the same camp; Zayn tells Harry he’s been coming here since he was six._

_“You must know everything,” he says with wide eyes._

_At some point during the swimming block, Liam comes over and sits down next to Harry, eyes a little lost as he glances around. He seems wholly out of place._

_“Li,” Harry whispers, tugging on his t-shirt to get his attention. “This is Zayn.”_

_“Liam,” the boy says, holding his hand out. Zayn laughs a little at how formal he is but reaches over to shake his hand nonetheless. Liam offers him a slight smile before he goes back to staring at the other boys finishing up their lesson._

_“He’s shy,” Harry explains even though he doesn’t need to. Zayn knows that look, remembers being closed off his first summer here as well. He still is a bit if it’s with boys he doesn’t know, but he knows almost everyone now. He mainly likes to hang out with Louis and Niall, doesn’t pay much attention to anyone else. But something about Harry demands to be noticed, and Zayn won’t mind if he becomes part of his group too. And maybe Louis will help Liam out of his shell the way he helped Zayn._

_“Zayn!”_

_That’s all the warning he gets before water is splashed in his face. He wipes it away to see a big grin on Louis’ face as he treads water._

_“You’re not supposed to splash,” he hears Liam mumble. Louis looks offended and Zayn can’t help but laugh._

_Louis narrows his eyes at him. “You’re boring,” he decides before swimming away with a huff._

_Zayn watches as Harry tucks Liam in against his side. “You’re not boring,” he reassures. “You’re my Liam.”_

_Liam pinches Harry’s side and they both laugh quietly, a dimple pressing deep into Harry’s cheek and his eyes sparkling a little. Zayn never knew a boy could look so pretty before. Maybe that’s what Doniya was talking about whenever she came home and mentioned some pretty boy at school. Maybe they were older versions of Harry: boys who smiled and laughed and walked up to whoever and just started to talk._

 

* * *

 

 

**_present day…_ **

“Zayn Malik!”

At the sound of his name, Zayn lifts his head from the trunk of the car where he was grabbing his bag, narrowly avoiding hitting his head. When he blinks the brightness of the sun away, he’s met with sparkling green eyes and a playful smirk. There are hands on hips with far too many rings than necessary and dark hair falling in ringlets over bare shoulders.

“Harry Styles,” Zayn says more to himself, but he gets a small laugh in response anyway.

The sound shouldn’t make something flutter in his heart, but when it does, Zayn stamps it down quickly. After knowing Harry for eleven years, he should really get over his small, he swears it's just small, crush on him. It’s pointless, and even with their history, Zayn knows better than to read too much into anything with Harry. He plasters a smile onto his face and drops his bag on the gravel, stepping forward to pull Harry into a hug.

Harry comes easily, as usual, and wraps his arms tight around Zayn’s shoulders, pulling him close and tucking his face into his neck as he breathes deeply.

“Are you smelling me?” Zayn laughs.

“Maybe,” Harry drawls, pulling back with a wink, hands dropping to touch Zayn’s waist instead.

Zayn arches an eyebrow.

“I haven’t seen you in a year,” Harry says with a slap to his arm as a way of explanation. “Missed the smell of smoke and pretentious hipster with a photography major.”

“Nothing new though, is it?” Zayn mumbles in response to not seeing each other, closing his trunk and locking the car. He grabs his bag as Harry laces their fingers together, pulling him towards the staff building.

They never see each other during the school year, even though they both go to college in the city. It’s the five of them – Zayn, Harry, Louis, Liam, and Niall – against the world together during the summer at camp, but once they step back into the real world, they go different ways. Before college, it used to be Zayn and Louis at school together, although they only had sparse interactions, and Harry and Liam together (and Niall off at some other school that Zayn never remembers the name of) and that’s that. When they were younger, it made more sense to rarely see each other outside of camp. Their schools were forty minutes a part, the camp falling in between. Once they were older and driving, they could’ve made the effort. And once they all went to different colleges in and around New York City, they were only quick subway rides or drives away from each other. But no one ever made the call to get together.

Zayn likes it, in a weird sort of way, even if he does miss them something terrible at times throughout the year. The other four are his boys, but they’re his summer boys. They’re the ones he had his first drink with at fifteen, the ones he broke his arm with when they snuck out of the gym during a rainy day and decided to roll down the big hill and he hit a tree; they’re the ones that offer his break from the stress of the world – even if he does have to go home every night. Louis was the first person to get a tattoo with him, and Niall was the first person he did a shot with. Liam was the first person to share his love of comic books, and Harry was the first...his first everything, really.

Zayn takes a moment to look at Harry as they walk, cataloguing everything new about him. He’s wearing shorts and no shoes, unsurprising since Harry only seems to wear shoes when he deems it absolutely necessary. Apparently walking around camp doesn’t fit that standard. There are leaves on his hips now and a mermaid on his arm above the anchor covering his wrist, along with an anatomical heart and the letters ‘g’ and ‘a’ in cursive on each shoulder. He wants the story behind each one, but he knows he’ll never get it. Since Harry started collecting tattoos three years ago, he’s never gotten a single explanation.

He’s grown a bit, taller now by a few inches, and his arms have filled out. Zayn’s not quite sure _why_ he’s walking around without his shirt on, but he doesn’t question it. Harry’s…Harry, and that’s the only way Zayn knows how to really describe him.

“See you changed your hair…again,” Harry says, dropping his hand to run his fingers through Zayn’s hair, thumb idly brushing over one of the shaved sides.

“See you got new tattoos…again,” Zayn returns, nodding at his chest.

Harry looks down at himself and shrugs, offering no further explanation.

“Oi!”

Zayn turns at the shout, rolling his eyes as he sees Louis yelling at them from the pool, Liam only a step behind him. He’s never quite figured out what exactly is going on there, but if the way Liam’s hands are lingering over Louis’ back mean anything, something’s stirring between the two. When they were eighteen, three years ago, something shifted between Louis and Liam, and Zayn never questioned it. He's not in much of a position to judge, considering his complicated relationship with Harry. But he knows there’s something deeper there now as Liam's hands move to rest on Louis' hips. Maybe, instead of staring at each other when they think the other one isn't looking, they're finally pulling their heads out of their asses.

“Find us after you check in with Ben!” Louis yells, and Zayn gives him a thumbs-up, watching as Louis turns and pushes Liam into the pool with a laugh, jumping in over his head afterwards.

“I can’t believe they actually let Louis be a counselor,” Zayn tells Harry as they start walking again, shaking his head as he turns back to see Louis on Liam’s shoulders as he tries to dunk him.

“Louis’ great with kids,” Harry says.

“Did you forget about two years ago when his campers destroyed your Arts & Crafts garage?”

Harry laughs, cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling as he does. There’s new lines on his face, indents where there weren’t before along the corners of his eyes and evidence that he’s grown in the sharpness of his jaw. Zayn wants to trace every single line, map them and store them away forever. “It was only his second summer as a counselor. Besides, cleaning it up wasn’t so bad, was it?”

_No, it really wasn’t._

Harry hums softly as Zayn gets lost in his thoughts, remembering the roaming hands and the smell of paint, how they forgot to look the door and anyone could’ve walked in, how Harry looked with paint dripping off his shoulders and the feel of his hands as they pressed paint into his spine.

“How’s Danny?” Harry asks, making the images of Zayn’s memory scatter away into nothing.

“Don’t know,” Zayn shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck, a nervous habit. He has no reason to be nervous, but he remembers the way Harry’s face had closed up the year before when he told him about Danny, remembers how it took two days for Harry to talk to him again and the awkwardness that lingered between them at times throughout the entire summer. It’s half the reason Zayn is surprised Harry found him in the parking lot; he was expecting things to still be a bit tenuous. “We broke up in November.”

Abruptly Zayn is pulled off the path towards the Staff Room as Harry drags him towards the Arts & Crafts garage instead. He lets Harry pull him easily, waving at Niall as they pass him, but he’s too engrossed in a game of Tennis with Nick to pay much attention to them.

Harry takes a key out of his back pocket, turning the lock on the door and tugging Zayn inside. He doesn’t bother to flick the lights on, choosing instead to push Zayn up against the door as he slams it shut and turns the lock back.

Before Zayn can say anything, there’s a mouth pressing hard against his and anything he would’ve said melts away. It’s been like this since they were sixteen – sneaking off any chance they get with the promise of harsh kisses and roaming hands.

Zayn relaxes into Harry, eyes fluttering shut as he lets him take over the kiss. He presses his hands against Harry’s chest, fingers crawling over his muscles and brushing over his nipples lightly. Harry hisses slightly against his mouth and Zayn swallows the sound, taking the moment to trace Harry’s bottom lip with his tongue and nip at it gently while sucking it into his mouth.

Harry growls lightly as he lifts Zayn, and Zayn’s legs automatically wrap around his waist in response. His stomach swoops a little at the action, Harry’s arms tight around him and they’re not kissing anymore, instead panting into each other’s mouths. Zayn’s eyes flicker open to see Harry watching him through hooded lids, hair a complete mess from where Zayn’s hands are now tangled in it.

His back hits the table as Harry lays him down on it, and his shirt is stripped off in a second. He moans as he feels Harry’s lips close around one of his nipples, licking over it until it’s hard and Zayn’s gasping for air. Harry’s hands are rough as they roam over Zayn’s chest, squeezing his hips tight before flicking the button open on his jeans and tugging them down his legs. It’s always like this with Harry, fast and rough and quick, but Zayn loves it. Sometimes he wishes Harry would slow down, let them explore each other, but then Harry’s kissing him again and he forgets about that train of thought.

He remembers when they were sixteen, unsure hands and scared giggles filling the space between them as they learned one another like this, but now Zayn’s body knows the touch of Harry’s lips, the press of his fingers as they leave indents, the way Harry’s body fits against his.

“Harry,” Zayn gasps when he mouths at his hard cock over his boxers.

“God, I’ve missed your cock,” Harry breathes, voice rough and a tad deeper than usual. It’s changed over the years, his tenor, excited tone dropping to a low drawl that makes Zayn’s toes curl when he whispers against his ear.

Zayn tightens his hands in Harry’s curls, tugging at them briefly as Harry pulls his cock out and licks at the precome gathered there already. His hips jerk and he tries to push Harry closer, getting a soft chuckle in response.

“So desperate for it already,” he says, breath blowing over Zayn and making him shiver.

“Harry, fuck,” Zayn whimpers, “ _please.”_

Harry licks up the underside of his cock, tracing the vein there slowly before finally taking Zayn into his mouth completely. Zayn let’s out a sigh of relief before moaning, knuckles white where one hand is gripping the table as the other stays tangled in Harry’s curls. Harry groans around him when he tugs too hard, sending shivers up his spine and causing his hips to jerk. An arm is thrown across his waist and Zayn works to stay still, biting his lip to try to keep quiet, knowing that other counselors and instructors are currently walking all around the camp.

“C-close,” he stutters, but Harry just sucks him harder.

Zayn comes with Harry’s name on lips, toes curling as Harry swallows around him.

“Shit,” Zayn breathes once he’s come down, eyes blinking open to see Harry standing on shaky legs. He climbs over Zayn on the table, legs straddling his hips as he kisses him again. Zayn moans, as he tastes himself on Harry’s tongue, sighing once Harry breaks the kiss and nips at his neck.

“Missed this,” Zayn whispers, hands tracing down Harry’s chest to pull his shorts down. He jerks Harry off quickly, wrist twisting the way he knows Harry likes and it only takes a few seconds before Harry’s spilling over Zayn’s hand and stomach.

Harry collapses next to Zayn, bodies pressed tight together to fit onto the table. Zayn turns a bit so his head is pillowed on Harry’s shoulder, grabbing his shirt where it got pushed underneath him to wipe his hand off. One of Harry’s hands is in his hair, carding through the long strands as his thumb soothes over the shaved sides, making Zayn shiver slightly.

“Can’t believe I went two years without your mouth on my cock,” Zayn hums, causing Harry to snort.

“I’m not the one who had a boyfriend last year,” Harry says after a minute of silence.

Zayn doesn’t tell Harry that the reason he had a boyfriend last year was to get over him. He couldn’t face another summer of having Harry but not really _having_ Harry, and Danny was nice and wanted him back. The moment Zayn arrived at camp last year and saw Harry again, he’d known it was fruitless. They lasted through the summer and into the fall, but Zayn couldn’t love him, so he left.

And he knows he’s setting himself up this year by falling into old habits with Harry like it’s nothing. But he’s smart about it now; he knows better. He’s not going to grow attached and leave camp everyday only to count down the hours until he returns and sees Harry again like he did when he was sixteen. It’s different; Zayn won’t let himself get too attached this time. He learned a long time ago that just because he has Harry like this, doesn’t mean he’s his.

Harry doesn’t do commitment. He doesn’t do attachments or roots or relationships. And that’s perfectly fine. They’re friends first and foremost, and if they fuck sometimes and Zayn has a few feelings he shouldn’t, well… It’s nothing they need to worry about. It’s fine.

*

Zayn finds Liam and Louis a half hour later; his check-in papers in his hands and his bag slung over one shoulder. They’re at the pool, Liam doing laps as Louis sits at the deep end, legs splashing in the water as he watches Liam.

“I hope you’re not going to look at him like that once your campers are around,” Zayn says as he sits next to Louis, kicking his shoes off and dipping his legs in the water as well.

“I’ll try not to fuck him in front of the campers either,” Louis says dryly.

Zayn chokes back a cough, face turning a slight pink. “You’re incorrigible,” he mutters, splashing Louis.

Normally Louis would splash him back, maybe even push him into the pool (but only if they were in the shallow end. Zayn really did never quite get the jist of swimming.) Instead, Louis is too busy watching Liam at the other end of the pool. His mouth is slightly open, a spark in his eyes, and Zayn notices the way he’s gripping the edge of the pool. Idly, he wonders if he ever looks at Harry like that, and if he does, then the boys have to know everything even though Zayn’s done his best not to tell anyone. They wouldn’t understand; Louis would lecture him about getting involved with someone who doesn’t feel anything back and Niall would just watch him with sad eyes. Liam might get it, but that’s only because Liam is Harry’s best friend. They grew up together, went to school together, and then decided to come to the same camp together. Zayn’s known Louis since elementary school, but they really only connected at camp, running in different social circles at school. But Liam and Harry, they were a package deal sometimes. If anyone would understand Zayn’s feelings it would be Liam. But in the same vein, if anyone were going to tell him to stop, it would also be Liam. Zayn finds it’s best to not say anything.

“So you _are_ together, then?” Zayn asks instead of ruminating on the state of his non-relationship with Harry again.

“We’ll see,” Louis says.

Liam swims over to them, grabbing at Louis’ legs to pull him into the pool with a laugh. Louis splutters and spits out water when he comes up for air, diving on Liam’s shoulders to try to dunk him. He just gets a laugh as Liam easily holds him back with one arm as he treads water. Zayn knows his confidence and skill in the water like this is the reason he’s the head lifeguard even though they’re only twenty-one.

“Hey Zayn,” he says with a smile.

“Show off,” Louis mutters when he gets frustrated at not being able to get out of Liam’s grasp. He bites his wrist to get him to let go before hanging onto the edge of the pool. Zayn laughs at the way the corners of his mouth pinch in and down in distaste.

“Who’s your group this year?” Liam asks as he turns to float on his back in the water. Louis looks like he’s going to jump on him again, but instead he pulls himself out of the water and sits on the diving board. Zayn doesn’t say anything about the way Louis doesn’t seem to look away from Liam’s chest.

“No group,” Zayn clarifies, “I switched to being the music instructor this year.”

“Twat,” Louis says, “You only did that because that room’s air conditioned.”

Zayn shrugs. It’s not the complete reason, but Zayn couldn’t deny the pull to be out of the sweltering sun all day, leading the kid’s around to their various activities while sweating and getting sunburnt.

Liam starts treading water again, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Isn’t that over at the Junior Camp though?”

“Honestly Liam, you make it sound like that’s a mile away. It’s all the same camp,” Louis says and kicks water at him, smiling when Liam closes his eyes and turns his head away.

Zayn rolls his eyes, wondering if he’s not actually a counselor when he’s around these two. “Senior Camp does music too, if they’re in the younger groups. Junior Camp does it mostly though, yeah. It’s not a big deal; my building is across from the Arts & Crafts garage, so it’s no farther than you have to go to see Harry.”

Liam shrugs but Louis turns to look at him, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Who’s your group?” Zayn asks Louis before he can say anything. He knows that look, but he's not ready for Louis to notice - let alone question - the way his voice always gets softer involuntarily when he talks about Harry.

“Senior Boys,” Louis smirks, and Zayn and Liam both groan audibly. The Senior Boys are one step below the Counselors-In-Training (CIT’s), meaning they’re the “kings of campus,” or so they like to think. And they’re only twelve or thirteen. A terrible age and with Louis as their counselor, Zayn has no doubt they’re going to cause a significant amount of problems in the next eight weeks. Their only luck is that the camp is just a day camp, so they don’t have to worry about anything crazy going on at night.

“Niall’s got the Grasshoppers this year,” Liam says. “Is that Junior Camp?”

“That’s Senior Camp, Liam,” Louis admonishes. “Grasshoppers are the six year old boys. Junior Camp is two to five. Honestly, did you forget you’ve been coming here since you were ten?”

“I came in as part of the Wasps,” Liam mutters, “I didn’t pay attention to the earlier groups.”

“You were also a CIT, and a JC, and well, you were never a Counselor, but you are an Instructor,” Zayn says with a shrug. “You should kind of know this stuff, bro.”

Liam simply shrugs. “Is all the staff here?”

“Ben’s with the first time counselors,” Zayn says. “I think we’re all meeting at three to talk about stuff for the summer but before that it’s basically a free for all.”

Their actual instructions are to get everything for the summer setup. Niall and Louis should be meeting with their Junior Counselors and CIT’s; Liam should be meeting with the other lifeguards; Harry should be fixing up the Arts & Crafts garage for whatever the first project will be; Zayn should be getting the music room setup and looking at his schedule to see what groups he has on which days and for how long.

“It’s one now, right? So we have two hours,” Louis says, raising an eyebrow and turning to Zayn.

Zayn chucks an empty water bottle at his head and stands up. “I’ll leave you two to…whatever this is,” he says with a wave of his hands and walks off, steadfastly ignoring the shout of “Louis, stop twisting my nipples!” from Liam.

*

At 2:45, Zayn’s lying on the blue-gray carpeted floor of the music room, legs crossed at the ankles and fingers interlaced where they rest on his stomach. His iPod is shuffling through random songs as he stares at the ceiling, singing along softly to the songs he knows.

“You should sing more,” Harry says as he pops his head into the room, startling Zayn. There's a few flowers in his hand, along with a clipboard that has a thin paintbrush dangling from it instead of a pencil. It's odd, but Zayn doesn't question it - he learned a long time ago to not question Harry's oddities. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Zayn breathes as he sits up, still a little shaken. “Warn someone first.”

Harry simply shrugs and walks into the room, positioning himself on the floor – the room void of any chairs – behind Zayn as his fingers start to press into the stiff muscles of his shoulders. “Make it up to you later?” he asks, smirk clear in his voice.

“Yeah.” Zayn leans back into Harry’s touch, eyes fluttering a little.

“I can’t wait to fuck you in here,” Harry whispers, mouth only centimeters from Zayn’s as he leans closer. His hands trail down Zayn’s back and over his stomach, one snaking underneath the spare shirt Zayn had thrown on after earlier that afternoon. “You would get the room with a wall of mirrors,” he breathes against Zayn’s neck, his other hand resting high on Zayn’s thigh.

“It’s a d-dance studio during the year,” Zayn says around a gasp, Harry’s lips sucking a soft bruise against his collarbone.

“Open your eyes,” Harry breathes against his neck.

Zayn’s eyes shoot open and he stares at them in the mirror. Zayn’s head is tilted back against Harry’s shoulder, baring his neck more easily for him. He watches Harry’s hands move across his body, inching his thighs further apart. There’s a flush to his cheeks and his hair is messed up, his topknot basically gone. It’s one thing to feel Harry touching him, but to see it like this…Zayn thinks he could come from this alone.

An alarm goes off on his phone, breaking their trance and causing Harry to drop his hands.

“2:55. Guess we’ll finish this another time.”

Harry stands up and holds a hand out for Zayn, pulling him to his feet easily.

“You’re insane,” Zayn says. Harry laughs and grabs the flowers he’d walked in with, twisting them into a crown and placing it on his head.

“Ready to go?”

Zayn’s not quite sure how Harry does this, goes from sexually frustrating him one moment to a dork the next. He’ll kiss Zayn pressed up against the wall until they’re both struggling to breathe, but then moments later he’ll be helping a little girl with her painting, leaving Zayn floundering a bit because it’s not possible for him to be so hot but also so sweet, always incredible with the kids.

They walk out of the room together, Zayn locking it behind them. Liam and Louis are ahead of them on their way to the Staff Room for the introductory meeting, hands interlocked before Louis tries to jump on Liam’s back. He’s successful after the third attempt, and Zayn laughs softly at them.

“Are they dating?” Harry asks, something cold in his voice that Zayn doesn’t know what to do with.

“They might be,” Zayn says, glancing at Harry. His eyebrows are pulled together and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose as they walk.

“I think they’re still figuring it out, but they’ll probably be officially together by the end of the summer.”

Harry clenches his jaw, hand dropping to his side to ball up in a fist instead. He straightens his shoulders and lets out a soft scoff. Everything about him has closed off, grown cold and almost bitter. Zayn doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s not jealousy. He _knows_ what jealousy looks like, and this isn’t it. This is…almost disgust.

“Liam loves him,” he spits like it’s a curse.

“How would you know that?” Harry didn’t even know if they were dating.

Harry fixes Zayn with a dark look. He softens a moment, biting his lip like he’s unsure for a second, before he closes off again. “I know Liam.”

Zayn nods like that’s all the reasoning Harry should need.

“And I know he’s making a mistake.”

The words are whispered, private like they’re not meant for Zayn – or anyone – to hear.

Zayn takes it back. Harry Styles isn’t just confusing; he’s an enigma and an anomaly all at once. He’s not quite sure when it all changed, if he’s honest with himself; doesn’t know when Harry stopped being the boy to tuck his head against Zayn’s shoulder when he was upset about something and instead became the boy to clench his fist and close off the world. When Harry stopped being this carefree kid who loved the world and his friends and became jaded and distant. He doesn’t know when Harry decided to distance himself or if Harry was always that way and Zayn just never realized it.

 

* * *

 

 

**_nine years ago…_ **

_“Louis, can you get off your butt and help us?” Liam asks, voice clearly frustrated. There’s a large tent in front of him. Zayn and Harry are off to the side trying to figure out the instructions while Niall gets everything out of the bag._

_“Seems like you’ve got it covered, Payno,” Louis says and continues to lie on his back staring up at the sky._

_Liam makes a frustrated noise, chucking a ball at Louis before resolutely ignoring him for the next ten minutes._

_“Think they’ll ever stop bickering?” Harry whispers conspiratorially to Zayn. He’s got the directions in his hand and is supposed to be telling Liam what to do, but considering they’re upside-down and he’s too busy sitting with his head resting on Zayn’s shoulder, he’s not being much help either._

_“No. They hate each other,” Zayn says. His fingers are playing with Harry’s curls, a habit he’s fallen into since the first summer they met. He twists them slowly around his fingers and then let’s them bounce loose before starting again. If Harry didn’t tilt his head closer and sigh happily every time Zayn started doing it, he might’ve been able to cure the habit before it took hold. But as it is, Zayn likes seeing Harry happy, likes the way he smiles like there’s nothing better in the world._

_“They’re worse than my parents.”_

_“Your parents are fighting?”_

_Harry shrugs but offers nothing else. He throws a missing piece of the tent to Niall where it’s sitting by his feet._

_“Haz?” Zayn tries again._

_There’s a gentle sigh and then Harry forces Zayn down onto his back, pressing his face into Zayn’s neck. It’s something that took Zayn a bit of getting used to, how much Harry touches him – touches all of them. He is so easy with affection and Zayn didn’t quite get it at first, was still trying to process why at twelve years old, and being two boys, it wasn’t weird. He never minded it though; Harry is always warm in his arms._

_“Gemma says they’re getting a divorce.”_

_Zayn barely hears the words, quiet and mumbled against his skin. But when he makes them out, he wraps his arms tighter around Harry and holds him close._

_“I’m sorry,” he says, unsure what else to do. He only knows what divorce is because Doniya said her best friend’s parents were getting one last summer. He can’t imagine the idea of his mom and dad living in separate houses; he doesn’t understand how that works._

_“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Harry says, sounding like a petulant child. But he sniffles a little, and Zayn doesn’t have the heart to make fun of him for being a boy and crying._

_“Does Liam know?”_

_Harry nods._

_Zayn feels an irrational bubble of jealousy swarm in him, but he tries to stamp it out quickly. It’s dumb, the way he always seems to get upset about how close Liam and Harry are. They’ve known each other forever according to Harry. Of course Harry is going to go to his best friend first._

_“I ran away to his house last night,” Harry says._

You can run away to mine too _, Zayn tells him in his mind. But it’s dumb; it’s stupid. Harry lives forty minutes away._

_“Were your parents mad?” he says instead._

_Harry nods._

_They fall into silence after that. Harry gets like this sometimes, Zayn has come to learn. He grows quiet and doesn’t say much, offering one-word answers, or he just nods and shakes his head when asked a question. Sometimes Zayn comes and sits with him when that happens, brings Harry a notebook to draw in and some paints he smuggled from the Arts & Crafts garage. Harry was never particularly skilled at art, but he told Zayn once that something about it soothed him. Zayn doesn’t mind resting with Harry like this. He likes Harry, even if he needs to be quiet sometimes. Zayn doesn’t know because he’s never been loud and friendly with everyone like Harry is, but it’s probably tiring. Zayn knows everyone, but keeps only certain people close to him, but Harry just flits around the camp and opens himself to someone before moving onto the next without blinking an eye. Sometimes Zayn wonders why he keeps coming back to him and the other three boys; an irrational part of him wondering if it's just because Liam is here and Liam has always been Harry's friend in a way none of the other people Zayn sees him talk to ever are. _

_Zayn holds Harry and watches the other boy. Liam’s practically setting up the tent himself, only aided by Niall occasionally handing him things. Louis ignores them all steadfastly, putting his fingers in his ears and singing at the top of his lungs if Liam ever tries to get him to help._

_It takes about ten minutes, but then the tent is set up and Liam is looking at it proudly._

_“Thanks to none of you, our tent is setup,” he says._

_“Hey!” Niall shouts, throwing a chip at him. “I helped idiot.”_

_“No food out here,” Liam reminds Niall with a stern look._

_Louis stands up and rolls his eyes, hands on his hip as he stares at Liam with judgment in his eyes. “Do you always have to be such a stickler for the rules? Let Niall eat his chips and stop being such a Dad.”_

_“It’s the rules! You don’t know what’s in the woods.”_

_Louis shrugs and grabs a chip from Niall, chewing it rather obnoxiously in Liam’s face. “I don’t see anything coming to attack me, do you boys?”_

_Liam throws his hands up in the air. “You’re so annoying.”_

_“You love me,” Louis says._

_“Hate you, more like,” Liam shoots back._

_“Love me.”_

_“Hate yo-“_

_“Okay!” Harry yells as he sits up, eyes glancing between Louis and Liam warily. “Can everyone just stop fighting? Please?”_

_Zayn watches the way Liam’s eyes soften when he hears the pleading in Harry’s voice, knows they’re both thinking about the same thing when Liam says, “Yeah, of course Hazza.”_

_“Thanks,” Harry mumbles and leans back against Zayn. Zayn’s arms immediately go around his waist, pulling him close as Liam walks over to ruffle his curls, causing Harry to let out an indignant squawk. Zayn tries not to feel smug that Harry never seems to care when he’s the one touching his hair._

_“It’s our last night together,” Harry reminds them, and even Louis finally falls silent and nods at that._

_It’s one of the traditions at Camp Sundown. Every year on the Thursday of the last week, they all sleep over at the camp. No one has to, and you have to be in the older groups of Senior Camp to even be allowed. Most people try to, but he knows some people get scared. Liam almost called home his first summer here because Louis wouldn’t stop telling ghost stories, but Harry calmed him down enough to stay._

_They do dumb stuff, have dinner and a late night swim all together. There’s no strict schedule, just various activities for all the campers. And then each group has a certain spot on the camp designated to them where they set up their tents to camp out; their counselors staying with them as well. And then in the morning, everyone’s a zombie on the last day – because who can actually sleep outside in a tent? Definitely not Zayn – and they spend it sleeping on the picnic tables and saying goodbye to everyone until the next summer when _their parents come to pick them up_._

_The five of them always share a tent together. It used to be just Zayn, Louis, and Niall, but once Liam and Harry came, the boys were quick to buy a bigger tent so all five of them could be together._

_“Stop looking so sad!” Louis yells at them. “We’ll do this next year too.”_

_“We’re Senior Boys this year,” Niall reminds Louis with a slight pat. “This is our last year as campers all in the same group. Next year we’ll be CIT’s and scattered around different groups.”_

_Louis frowns at that._

_“Oh,” Liam says from behind him as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him._

_Zayn glances at Harry, and his wide eyes tell Zayn that he hadn’t thought of that either. Apparently no one but Niall had put that together. Zayn knows it doesn't mean they'll never see each other - they'll still see each other constantly. But they won't be in the same group all day every day; they'll be scatter about for parts of the day, unable to simply turn to one another whenever they want to joke or play a prank._

_“Come on,” Niall says and takes off down the path towards the woods. Their spot is on the softball fields, but the woods are only about half a mile away. They surround the edge of one side of the camp once you go down the hills and away from the street._

_Zayn pulls Harry up with him, grabbing Liam and Louis too as they trail after Niall. Liam doesn’t even mention the fact that they should really tell their counselor before they wander off._

_Niall leads them to a big oak tree at the edge of the woods next to the gravel path, grabbing something off his keychain before he starts to carve into the tree._

_“This is so girly,” Louis hisses when Niall steps back, admiring where his name is now crookedly carved into the bark. “Seriously, what chick flick did you steal this out of, Nialler?”_

_Zayn laughs at Louis, who still grabs Niall’s keychain and carves his own name in. Then Liam, then Harry, and finally Zayn, carving his name right below Harry’s and stepping back with a smile._

_“Maybe it’s not so girly,” Louis mumbles under his breath, ducking under Liam’s arm and hugging him tight. Harry laughs against Zayn’s ear from where he’s watching them with his head tucked on Zayn’s shoulder. Liam looks a bit shell-shocked, but his arms still wrap around Louis to hold him._

_Niall looks a bit put out, but then Harry pulls him close along with Zayn, and a second later Louis is huffing in frustration and then all five of them end up in some tangled hug with limbs everywhere._

_“This is ridiculous,” Zayn says. He looks up to see Harry smiling at him, face smooshed by Louis’ arm that is haphazardly thrown around him. Zayn smiles back._

_They don’t do anything crazy that night. Louis tells ghost stories and screams when the shadow of a deer flashes at the other end of the tent. Liam almost cries from laughter at that, and Niall tells them ridiculously bad jokes until one in the morning. Harry hands out friendship bracelets that he’s made for all of them, blushing as he does so, but none of the boys mock him for it._

_“See you next summer?” Harry asks at the end of the next day as all of their parents come to pick them up. His eyes are barely open and he’s wavering slightly on his feet. Zayn pulls him close with a laugh._

_“Get some sleep,” he says, squeezing him one last time before letting go._

_“Miss you, Zaynie,” Harry says with a sleepy smile._

_Zayn laughs and tugs at one of Harry’s curls. “Miss you too, Haz.”_

 

* * *

 

The first week passes in a blur of screaming kids and hot days. Now that Zayn’s an instructor, with one of the coveted air conditioned rooms, he finds that the boys have taken to spending any and all time off – even if it’s a short fifteen minute break – with him. Or not with him, per se, but sleeping on the floor in the back of the room while Zayn works with whichever campers he has at that time. Harry rarely comes by – unlike Louis who stops by several times a day. When he does, instead of lying down he sits on the floor next to Zayn and helps with the kids. Zayn knows Harry’s studying music in school, and he thinks Liam mentioned he had switched to a music education track as well. Part of him thought Harry would've jumped to be the Music Instructor when the positioned opened up, but he also knows how much Harry has always loved Arts & Crafts. Even when they were actual campers, Harry was always making a mess with the paint and a wide smile on his face.

Having Harry close like this, helping him with the kids and making silly faces as they sing dumb songs… It’s a bit unnerving. Harry’s different with the kids; his smile is softer and the frown lines around his mouth and eyes slither away. There’s a lightness to his movements.

During the second week of camp, Harry stops by after lunch because his group for the next hour is with another group since their counselor and junior counselor aren’t there.  
  
“Need any help?” Harry asks as he steps inside, hand knocking on the door but it’s a formality more than anything else.  
  
Zayn doesn’t have a chance to respond because a little girl – Lily, if he remembers correctly, it’s hard to keep track of all the names – jumps up and yells “Harry!” before running at him. Harry laughs and scoops her up into his arms, pressing kisses all over her face and twirling her in his arms.  
  
“My darling Lilypad,” he hums, tickling her stomach and she starts to giggle. “How are you today?”  
  
“Zayn’s teaching us a song.”  
  
Harry’s face morphs into one of shock, but Zayn knows it’s put on for her. A few of the other girls from the group get up and wander over the Harry, one of them wrapping her body tight around his legs. Their counselor, Kate, rolls her eyes at them.  
  
“They do this during their Arts & Crafts block too,” she whispers to Zayn. “They love him.”  
  
Zayn can’t recall a time he ever agreed with a group of four-year-old girls so strongly. The girls are all talking to Harry at once, and Harry makes sure to look like he’s intently listening to each of them – even Sara who’s talking about the caterpillar that crawled up her nose the day before.  
  
“We love you too, Zaynie.”  
  
Zayn looks down to see four of the girls still sitting in front of him, and he smiles at them. He knows the kids like him, otherwise they probably wouldn’t have been sitting quietly for him as he taught them the song. Opening his arms, they all crawl forward and hug him; Zayn presses kisses to each of their foreheads with a soft smile and Kate laughs next to him, rolling her eyes with fond amusement.  
  
When he looks up again, Harry’s gaze is focused on him. Zayn offers a slight smile, and he gets a small one in return. It’s not enough, though; it’s not like the smiles he gives the campers. It took Zayn a few years to fully understand, but Harry smiles differently depending on who he’s with or what he’s doing. With Zayn, it’s almost always tight, even if it looks wide and happy; he’s closed off to Zayn, and Zayn was only able to get a truly genuine smile out of him a handful of times since they turned eighteen. Considering that was three years ago, he wants to change that. He just doesn’t know how.  
  
When he’s with kids, Harry’s open. It’s like whatever makes him cold to the rest of the world, to his friends (although sometimes he smiles at Liam and it’s achingly fond, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes), washes away with kids. It makes sense, really, and Zayn can’t fault him for it. He’s had bad nights or rough mornings and come to camp only to laugh ridiculously at whatever crazy thing a kid has said, heart feeling a little lighter for a moment. He wants to bottle that feeling and keep it forever; he wants Harry to keep it forever.  
  
Harry stays with them for the rest of the hour, making ridiculous faces as Zayn teaches them song after song. One of the girls asks Zayn to make the noises in the song he’s teaching them about animals.  
  
“It’s not fair!” she says, crossing her arms and pouting. She looks a bit like a kitten trying to hiss, and Zayn has to bite back a laugh at her cuteness. “You have to make the animals noises too Mr. Zayn.”  
  
Harry nods solemnly in agreement and reaches over to ruffle her hair a little. “She’s right,” Harry says like it’s the most serious issue in the world. “It’s only fair.”  
  
Zayn holds back the urge to roll his eyes at Harry because now he’s got all the little girls looking at him and waiting. Kate’s covering her hand with her mouth, trying to hold back her laughter but she’s not very successful.  
  
“Okay,” Zayn gives in.  
  
He spends the next five minutes making a complete fool of himself making animal noises. The elephant noise gets a particularly hard laugh from the group when he raises his arm to do the motion of its trunk as well. But the only face he’s truly focused on is Harry, whose eyes are lighter than Zayn can remember. His dimples are showing and his smile looks like it hurts, arm wrapped around his stomach as he bends over in laughter. Zayn finds himself wishing he had his camera to capture the moment, to capture that smile. He wants to tell Harry to look in the mirror, look at how happy he looks for once, and then tell him to keep that look forever. He stays silent though, because he knows the second Harry becomes aware of the fact that he’s let go for a moment, he’ll close back up.  
  
Ten minutes later when their hour is up and the kids have all filed out, after giving a hug to both Harry and Zayn, he’s proven right. Harry smiles at Zayn before he leaves, but it’s empty. He throws in a little salute as he walks out the door and Zayn chuckles because no matter what, Harry is still a bit ridiculous.  
  
*  
  
On Friday, Zayn has the morning off so he takes one of his cameras and wanders around the camp. He doesn’t know if he’ll use any of the shots for classes during senior year, but he knows it’ll be his last summer here since he'll be graduating college and off in the 'real world'. He wants to capture everything.  
  
He gets a picture of Liam with his arms crossed staring down at his staff and laughs a little while he takes it; it’s hard to think of Liam - puppy-dog Liam who he’s never heard raise his voice no matter how much Louis annoys him - looking cross with his staff while yelling at them.  
  
Louis’ on one of the sand volleyball courts with his group, and Zayn snaps a photo of him falling on his ass trying to bend backwards to hit the ball. His campers are all laughing at him, and Zayn stops to take a few more pictures of them kicking sand at him before jumping all over him. Zayn’s pretty sure the entire camp can hear Louis’ pleas for them to stop, which dissolves into easy laughter not even a minute later.  
  
At the fishing and boating area, Niall’s busy trying to fish one of his campers out of the water where he fell in, but the flailing arms that hit him in the face seem to be hindering the attempt. Zayn smiles and takes a picture of Niall bent over the edge, half his body in the water and a tiny hand smushing his face. Maybe he’ll frame that one for Niall, or save it and e-mail it to his next girlfriend.  
  
He takes pictures of the kids down at the adventure course zip lining, captures the faded lines of their names carved into the oak tree in the woods by the softball fields. He idly wanders around the nature trail, cuts onto the bike trail instead until he gets to the river. He takes a brief picture but shudders away from stepping out onto the rocks, the memory of the last time he was here rushing through him. He steps back onto the trail and takes a picture of the path, fingers running over the trees that hold the secrets of the summer he was seventeen and Harry made it his mission to ruin Zayn’s back and drag him onto the bike trail when no one was scheduled to be on it, pushing him up against the tree and kissing him senseless. Zayn gave his first blowjob in these woods, and it’s stupid, _very_ stupid, but Zayn feels the need to document the trees it happened under.

Ultimately, although it’s not a conscious decision, Zayn saves going near the Arts & Crafts garage for last. He can lie to himself, which he definitely does, and say that it's because his music room is next to it, so it only makes sense to save that area for last; deep down, though, Zayn knows it’s because of Harry.  
  
The group Harry helped him with earlier in the week is sitting at the tables in the garage, and Zayn’s not sure whether they’re _supposed_ to be finger painting or whether half of them have decided to simply ignore the brushes and use their hands instead. Harry doesn’t appear to care though; he’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the table. Zayn’s not quite sure what the purpose of sitting on _top_ of the table is, but none of the kids appear to mind. Occasionally Harry leans over and dips his fingers in the paint, adding something to one of the girl’s paintings with a wink.  
  
Zayn takes a picture of it; tries to capture it all. He snaps a photo of Harry leaning over to help one of the girl’s when she looks upset; he snaps a photo of the purple line of paint stretching down his neck and wonders how it got there; he snaps a photo of a Harry with his hands resting on his knees as he closes his eyes and breathes deeply; he snaps a photo of Harry looking at Lily with soft eyes, a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth; he snaps a photo of Harry pulling his hair into a bun; and he snaps a photo of Harry standing on top of the table and singing along to the children’s CD he currently has playing, arms spread wide and feet bare, arms covered in paint, as all the little girls laugh at him, including Kate in the background.  
  
A few minutes later the girls file out of the garage with a chorus of “Bye Harry!” He waves at them all, bends down to hug a few. Zayn watches how he holds them close, tight, and squishes his face against theirs and doesn’t let go until they do.  
  
Once they’ve all left, Harry turns around to start cleaning the room up, oblivious to Zayn’s presence. He stands there for a beat longer, taking a few more pictures until it feels a tad bit too far on the creepy side to continue.  
  
When he goes home that night and flicks through his computer, he finds a picture of Harry he’s not quite sure what to do with. He’s standing there, staring ahead. Zayn remembers thinking that he spotted him, but he was really just staring into space. The first time he looks at it, he just passes over it as nothing, but it’s not.  
  
Harry’s looking off, and Zayn’s not sure if he was lost in thought, thinks maybe he might’ve been. Small wisps of hair are sticking out from his bun, and when he zooms in on his face, he has to stop himself from physically recoiling. It’s Harry, and he’s gorgeous like he always is, but he looks like the physical manifestation of tiredness. If Zayn ever had to put an image to the phrase “bone tired,” it would be Harry is this picture. There are two stress lines on his forehead, one on each side, and the slightest downward tilt in his mouth. There are soft bags under each of his eyes, which are a muted green and missing any of the usual spark behind them. His lips are pressed together, and there’s a slight redness there that looks like Harry was biting at them. Cheeks are sunken in and even though he wasn’t crying, Zayn could swear there’s the faintest outline of tear tracks there. He’s seen his parent’s after a tough day, comforted Doniya when her boyfriend broke up with her, sat with friends when they got bad news, but he’s never seen someone look like they’re ready to collapse at any moment.  
  
Something aches deep in his chest, and Zayn just wants to fix this. He remembers the way Harry always used to laugh with him when they were younger, how he immediately dragged Liam towards Zayn, Louis, and Niall the first summer he was at camp. Harry was open and so full of life, and now he looks like he’s gone through the wringer. Zayn wants to take it away, wants to press his fingers against every frown line and smooth it away for the rest of Harry’s life. _It’s not fair,_ Zayn thinks. Harry, of all people, should never look like this. He’s good, even if he is distant. Zayn remembers how he looked out for Liam the first year they came to camp because Liam was shy, and he’s seen him be an amazing instructor with the kids at camp.  
  
He flicks through his pictures again and finds an earlier one of Harry smiling at Lily as he talks to her. _That’s_ his Harry, not this ghost of a person that Zayn can only think to describe as worn to the bone.  
  
*  
  
Zayn’s sitting on the diving board of the pool, legs dangling on either end as he takes a drag from his cigarette. Liam yelled at him for it earlier, but Zayn ignored him. Camp ended a half an hour ago and he stuck around to talk to Liam, who decided that in lieu of answering Zayn’s question about Louis, he would swim instead.  
  
“Liam,” Zayn tries again when the other boy’s taken a short break at the opposite end of the pool. His feeble attempts to avoid Zayn are rather obvious. “Just answer the question.”  
  
“I can’t.” Liam dives back under the water and continues doing laps, barely coming up for air and Zayn once again fails to understand what is so riveting about swimming. Right now though, Zayn knows it’s just an avoidance tactic. He finishes his cigarette and stubs it out in the mug Liam had given him – scolding him as he did about not getting any ash in the pool.  
  
When Liam finally stops, he hauls himself out of the water so he’s sitting on the edge across from the end of the diving board where Zayn is. He reaches back and grabs a towel off one of the plastic chairs, dabbing his face dry before rubbing it quickly over his hair and then wrapping it around his neck and shoulders.  
  
“Can’t or won’t?” Zayn asks.  
  
“I really can’t, Z.” Liam lets out a frustrated sigh, kicking his legs in the water. “Louis won’t let me take him out on a date.”  
  
Zayn snorts. “I find that hard to believe.”  
  
“Well he never gives me an answer when I ask, just pushes me against whatever hard surface there is and kisses me.” Liam sounds upset, but Zayn can make out the telltale smile at the corner of his lips. Louis’ way of not answering Liam doesn’t sound nearly as annoying as Liam is trying to make it seem; even he doesn’t appear to be buying his own lie.  
  
“So don’t let him kiss you until he answers your question.”  
  
Liam levels a glare at him and scoffs.  
  
“Do you want me to talk to him?”  
  
Before Liam can answer, Louis, Harry and Niall come around the corner, the three of them all talking loudly over one another. Neither Liam nor Zayn are particularly surprised by this, and they’re definitely not surprised when Louis’ voice grows even louder than the other two so he can be heard. Zayn’s not sure why they’re still here since everyone normally tries to leave right away when camp is done for the day, but then Louis catches sight of Liam and Zayn and he changes paths, pulling Niall and Harry with them, and Zayn stops wondering.  
  
“Isn’t this cute?” Louis says as they walk through the gate to the pool, and Zayn can detect a hint of jealousy in his voice. Why Louis keeps saying no to Liam, Zayn doesn’t know. But he does know that Louis clearly has some attachment to Liam if he’s jealous of Zayn sitting five feet away from him and talking.  
  
Louis strips off his shirt and jumps into the water near where Liam is sat, splashing him. Zayn wonders if Louis knows how to not act like a schoolboy with a crush around Liam.  
  
“Hey, Li,” Louis hums as he comes up for air, eyes softening a little. Zayn glances over to see Harry and Niall sitting at the shallow end of the pool, heads close together as they talk about something with their legs dangling in the water and idly splashing.  
  
When Zayn looks back at Louis and Liam, their mouths are pressed together.  
  
“Hey!” he shouts and they break apart, Liam blushing fiercely but Louis has a smirk on his face, one hand tight on Liam’s knee where he’s between his legs, the other resting against the concrete and holding his upper body out of the water. There’s a glint in his eyes, and Zayn swears it’s shouting _“mine”_ at him.  
  
Louis swims over to the end of the diving board and hangs off the edge. “Problem?” he asks and Zayn rolls his eyes. When he lets go of the board, it bounces and Zayn loses his balance, falling into the water with a yelp. He swallows a gulp of water as his legs kick out wildly, hitting something that he’s pretty sure is Louis’ stomach. He tries not to panic, tries to remember that he actually does know the basics of how to tread water.

Arms wrap around his waist tight and Zayn goes limp in them, aware enough to know he shouldn’t fight. Once he can breathe again, Zayn spits out the water in his mouth and gulps in a large breath of air, chest heaving as he leans back against the person holding him. It’s Harry, but he’s not looking at Zayn, instead focusing his glare on Louis across the water.  
  
Zayn grabs onto the ledge of the pool once Harry’s pulled him over there, hoisting himself out with Harry’s help. His breathing is still labored, but he no longer feels his heart pounding in his ears. As he coughs a few times he feels Harry’s hand rubbing soft circles into his back.  
  
“You okay?” Harry asks with clear concern, and Zayn turns to look at him. His face is taut, brow furrowed like he’s really worried. Zayn offers him a light smile.  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
“Good.” Harry seems to realize how close he’s leaning towards Zayn and pulls back. His face closes up a bit and he leans back in, lips just brushing the shell of Zayn’s ear. “I’d hate to lose my fuck buddy.”

Zayn nearly falls back into the water with how hard he physically recoils from the words, Harry’s sudden hand on his upper arm the only thing keeping him upright. He blinks hard, taking a deep breath to try to control how sick to his stomach he feels. The only comfort he gets is the pinched look on Harry’s face and the deep frown lining his features, a look of almost regret lighting his eyes before it flickers away.

Harry lets out a bitter laugh and stands up on shaky legs, but Zayn doesn’t reach out to steady him. He shakes himself as though that will rid his brain of the words, and when he glances up he sees Louis staring at him and biting his lip. Liam casts a concerned glance towards Harry’s back as he walks out of the pool area.

 

* * *

 

 

**_eight years ago…_ **

_Zayn’s lounging in one of the plastic chairs in the CIT shack. There's a plastic table, where Zayn is sat, and a few chairs surrounding it, a half wall protruding from one side that someone is always laying on and trying to sleep - even Zayn's been known to take a nap there. There's also a vending machines, and a few games in the front part of the shack along with a ping-pong table. Then there's the porch - the one that sits over where the bikes are stacked in the shed underneath - with even more tables and chairs. _Louis walks in, throwing his bag down against the table loudly as he falls into the seat across from Zayn with a thump.__

_He’s gotten used to this over the summer. The CIT’s only have to be with their group for the first half of the day, but after lunch they’re free to sit in the shack or wander around camp as long as they don't cause too much trouble. Every week there’s a day trip somewhere; last week they went to a water park and this week they’ll be going to Six Flags. And everyday, without fail, Zayn is the first one to the shack, and Louis follows minutes later frustrated with one thing or another. Typically it's the Junior Counselor for his group, since neither of them seem to like one another in the slightest._

_“Something wrong, Lou?” Zayn glances up from his book. Louis’ hair is a mess, sticking up in the back but parts of it matted with a bit of sweat. There’s also a darkness to his blue eyes that suggests he’s two steps away from murder._

_“I hate the Hornets,” Louis huffs. He spends five minutes ranting and cursing about the group he’s a CIT for, and Zayn only pays attention to a quarter of what he says._

_“Tyler and Dylan are the worst,” he finishes._

_Zayn arches an eyebrow. “How so?”_

_“They never stop pulling pranks!”_

_Louis throws his arms up in anger, head falling back as he groans loudly. Zayn should feel sympathetic, his group is rather calm this year, but he laughs instead. When Louis hears him, he glares at him and throws an empty water bottle that was sitting on the table at his head._

_“It’s not funny.”_

_“It’s a little funny,” Zayn says. “You’re annoyed with younger clones of you.”_

_“He’s right,” Liam agrees as he walks in with Niall._

_Louis glares at all of them and crosses his arms, but everyone ignores him. Liam and Niall start up a game of ping-pong, neither one particularly great as evidenced by the three balls that hit Zayn in the back of the head in the course of their game._

_“Where’s Harry?” Zayn asks after it’s been ten minutes._

_“Went home,” Liam answers without glancing away from his game with Niall. “Threw up during lunch.”_

_Zayn frowns. “He’s still coming tomorrow though, right?”_

_Liam shrugs, getting another point against Niall and ending the game. Niall steals the other half of Zayn’s sandwich as Liam sits down next to him, head falling against Zayn’s shoulder and he lets out a yawn. Zayn pets his head in sympathy. The summer’s almost over and none of them were prepared for being CIT’s and actually having to look after other camper’s, even if they only had to do it for half a day._

_“We have the overnight trip to Six Flags, he’ll be here.” Louis waves his hand as though it’s obvious and grabs Zayn’s book, flicking threw it absentmindedly. It’s a bad habit of all of theirs, stealing each other’s stuff for no other reason than to simply say they did._

_“Harry hates roller coasters though,” Niall reminds them._

_At the beginning of the summer when they all got their assignments and the schedule for the weekly CIT trips, Zayn remembers glancing at Harry to see his face grow pale as he bit his lip nervously. “I’m afraid of roller coasters,” he had whispered to Zayn, looking a bit unsure. Zayn had wrapped an arm around him and held him close, murmuring an “I hate roller coasters too.” He remembers the way Harry’s face had lit up a little with something like relief and they’d promised to spend the trip avoiding anything too scary together._

_Louis rolls his eyes at Niall and throws the book at him. One day, Zayn thinks, they're going to have to sit Louis down and explain that throwing things at his friends is not a proper thing to do. He knows Liam already did it once or twice - maybe three times - but clearly nothing he said has taken hold._

_“It’s our last trip, and young Harold is a sap.”_

_Zayn doesn’t remind Louis of their first summer together, all five of them, and how he’d cried when he realized they wouldn’t see each other for an entire year._

_“He’ll be here,” Liam agrees with Louis, but Zayn isn’t sure if he means it or if he’s just trying to placate Louis so he stops throwing random things from the shack at all of them in annoyance._

_*_

_As it turns out, Harry’s the first one of them at camp the next morning._

_“Feeling better?” Zayn asks as he finds Harry sitting at a picnic table by the buses, a few other CIT’s mingling around as they wait for everyone before they can go. Harry’s got his bag resting between his feet and his head in his hands, lifting it once he hears Zayn. There’s a slight redness around his eyes and a tilt to his smile that Zayn doesn’t like; it’s not genuine._

_“M’fine,” he mumbles, but Zayn disagrees. He throws his bag down and sits next to Harry, carding his fingers through Harry’s short curls and scratching slowly. The effect is immediate, as Zayn has come to learn. Harry’s shoulders lose their tension and the quirk to his lips turns real, a slight dimple starting to peek through._

_“You’re not going to throw up on the bus, right?”_

_Harry furrows his eyebrows, head tilted to the side._

_“Liam said you were sick yesterday,” Zayn clarifies._

_Harry laughs a little, rubbing at his eyes with his fists and making them even redder. “I wasn’t sick.”_

_It’s Zayn’s turn to look confused, hand pausing where it was still playing with Harry’s curls._

_“Mom picked me up,” Harry sighs, tucking his head in against Zayn’s shoulder. “My Dad left.” Zayn sucks in a breath, arms wrapping around Harry to hold him close. “I knew he was going to. They talked about it this weekend, but I think my Mom just wanted me and Gem around. I asked Liam not to tell."_

_The flare of jealousy that Harry went to Liam stirs in Zayn again, but he pushes it down and ignores it. It’s stupid and pointless and Harry is allowed to have other friends besides Zayn. He doesn’t say anything else and Harry stays wrapped in his arms for the next five minutes, soft sniffles breaking through every few seconds._

_Zayn doesn’t quite know what to say; he doesn’t know how to fix this and make it okay for Harry. They’ve talked about it a bit, on rainy days in the back of the gym while a movie plays or when they’re sitting around eating lunch and the other three are off playing some stupid game. They’ll sit on the hill next to the CIT shack and talk, Zayn listening as Harry tells him about his parents and his sister, and Harry listening as Zayn tells him about the new camera his mom gave him when he found a love for taking pictures. Sometimes Harry indulges him and lets him take a few; Niall and Liam too. Zayn doesn’t ask Louis because he’d rather not have his camera broken by ‘accident.’_

_Harry doesn’t say anything else either, but then he’s disappearing out of Zayn’s arms and jumping on Liam and tackling him with a laugh. Zayn didn’t realize he was here._

_“Hi Hazza.” Liam pushes Harry off of him and stands up, pulling Harry up with him and into a hug. They whisper softly to one another, but Zayn can’t hear it. He sees Harry’s face fall for a second as he nods. Liam wraps him up in a hug before ruffling his curls and saying something that makes Harry pull away and hit him in the chest, a smile on his face and a laugh escaping from his lips - the sound loud and a bit absurd. More than once, Zayn has seen Harry's eyes widen and his hands clap over his mouth quickly when he let out a particularly embarrassing, to Harry at least, shout of laughter._

_“I’m here!” Louis shouts as he gets out of his car, Niall only a few steps behind him. “We can go now.”_

_Zayn rolls his eyes at Louis’ antics. He’s not wrong though, seeing as he was the only CIT left that they were waiting on. They all file onto the bus, Liam and Harry sitting together at the back, and Zayn grabs a seat with Louis kitty corner of them. Niall sits with one of the new CIT’s up front, Barbara. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks while he talks to her, and Zayn shakes his head at the sight._

_“Young Nialler, he’s growing up,” Louis says with fake tears in his voice._

_“We’re thirteen,” Zayn points out._

_“We’re men now.”_

_Zayn rolls his eyes, again. One day he knows they’re going to get stuck to the back of his eye sockets because of Louis. He puts his headphones in while Louis leans across the aisle to say something to Liam, content to avoid talking much for the next three hours in favor of sleeping with his head pressed against the hard window._

_*_

_Louis wakes him a little over an hour later with a harsh flick to his ear. Zayn blinks blearily and scowls as he takes his headphones out. There’s a book open in Louis’ lap and Harry is asleep on Liam behind them. Liam’s staring out the window over Harry’s head, but his eyes are blinking slowly so Zayn knows he’ll be asleep in a minute like the majority of the bus._

_“What?” Zayn hisses, annoyed at having his sleep interrupted._

_“I saw you hugging Harry earlier.”_

_It’s an innocent comment, but Louis makes it sound like an accusation, one that Zayn doesn’t dignify with a response except to put his headphones back in and try to sleep again._

_Louis rips them out a minute later._

_“Do you like him?”_

_“We’re friends, Lou, just like you and me,” Zayn say tiredly. He knows Louis won’t leave him alone even if he refuses to answer._

_“You were hugging him.”_

_Zayn crosses his arms, leaning his head back against the window as he levels Louis with narrowed eyes and a frown. “I hug you all the time.”_

_Zayn doesn’t quite know where Louis is going with this or why there’s a crease in his eyebrows like he’s thinking hard about something. His fingers tap out a random beat on his knee._

_“Niall and Barbara…” Louis trails off, and Zayn makes a noise for him to continue. He’s taking far too long to get to his point and Zayn just wants to sleep, so he’d appreciate if Louis would stop being annoying and say whatever he’s trying to. It’s weird for him to be dancing around something; he’s the brashest person Zayn knows._

_“Do you like him like Niall likes Barbara?”_

_Zayn’s eyes widen and he sucks in a breath too quickly that leaves him coughing. A bottle of water is thrust at him, which he takes with a nod of thanks._

_"_ _I’ll take that as a yes,” Louis says once Zayn’s gotten control of his breathing again._

_“He’s a boy,” Zayn says quickly. “And we’re only thirteen.”_

_Louis turns to stare at him, and it’s a bit unnerving having the full pierce of his blue eyes, intoxicating and intimidating at the same time but Zayn doesn’t look away. He seems to be searching for something in Zayn’s face, and Zayn is a bit worried about the nerves he sees reflected on Louis' face. It’s not like Louis to be nervous about anything._

_“It’s okay if you do, Z.”_

_Neither of them says anything else after that, but Zayn finds it’s a lot harder to fall asleep for the rest of the drive._

_*_

_The five of them spend the day together once they get to Six Flags. Liam, Louis, and Niall go on every single ride, some of them twice, and Louis nearly gets sick from eating too much junk food. Zayn and Harry go on a few rollercoasters with the others, but most of their time is spent together wandering the park and laughing at their friends. By the time they all get to the hotel that night, stuffed full of food from the park and legs tired from a day of walking, everyone just wants to sleep. There are complaints of sunburn and loud voices asking if anyone thought to bring Aloe. The three counselors in charge of them are worn out from chasing them all around for the day, yelling for everyone to go to their rooms and stay there. Louis grabs Liam and Niall and pulls them into the room with him, laughing at Zayn’s face and sending a wink at him. Zayn and Louis were supposed to share while Liam and Harry and Niall would take the adjoining room. Harry doesn’t seem to mind though, so Zayn follows him into the other hotel room after Louis has thrown his bag out of the other room at his feet._

_They both shower quickly and Zayn’s lying on the bed flicking through his book when Harry finishes. His book falls to the floor when Harry jumps on the bed and startles him, a small giggle escaping that he quickly covers with his mouth. Zayn’s lips quirk at the sound and the blush creeping up Harry’s neck._

_He picks his book up and places it on the nightstand. When he turns to lie on his side, Harry is facing him at the other end of the bed with a slight smile on his face. He would ask why Harry doesn’t go lie in the other bed, but three years of sharing a tent during the sleep over night at camp have taught him that Harry likes to cuddle when he sleeps._

_“Z, have you ever kissed someone?” Harry asks quietly. He picks at invisible lint on the comforter and Zayn pretends not to be surprised by the question._

_“N-no,” he stutters, hoping he doesn’t sound as nervous as he suddenly feels._

_“Me neither,” Harry says. It’s quiet for a bit, but Zayn doesn’t feel the need to break it until Harry does._

_“D’you, I mean –” Harry huffs in frustration. “Did you know Gemma was twelve when she first kissed a boy?”_

_Zayn shrugs; he didn’t know and he’s not sure why Harry feels the need to tell him. He’s never even met Gemma, just heard about her in stories. A lot of stories actually, because Harry never talks stopping about his sister and whatever crazy thing they last got up to._

_“Can I kiss you?” Harry blurts into the silence. Zayn’s too shocked to do anything except nod._

_Harry inches closer to him until their knees touch. He’s biting his lip nervously, and Zayn’s fairly certain his face has a look of terror on it. There’s a brief pause where Harry asks if he’s sure; Zayn nods again._

_Harry’s lips are dry when they touch Zayn’s, though they’re also warm and soft at the same time. His eyes close and Zayn leans forward, kissing Harry back softly. It doesn’t last long, barely even a few seconds, but when they pull back there’s a smile lining both of their faces. Harry’s eyes crinkle a little at the sides and he pushes Zayn onto his back so he can lie on him. Zayn reaches a hand over to flick the light off and they fall asleep curled up together just like that._

 

* * *

 

Zayn doesn’t really see Harry at all the next week. Every time he stops by the Arts & Crafts garage, Harry’s either busy with a group or not there. It’s weird to not find him there; usually whenever Harry’s not with them or with a group, he’s in his garage. Sometimes he’ll be getting things ready for camp, other times Zayn sees him hunched over a sketchbook in the back room. More often than not he sees Harry rip up whatever he’s working on and throw it in the garbage.

When he’s free, Harry doesn’t stop by to help Zayn teach music for that hour either. He still comes to lunch with the four of them; it’s tradition, really. But he’s subdued, more so than usual, and even Niall starts to pick up on it, shooting Harry worried looks occasionally. Liam doesn’t appear to take his eyes off of him, and by the end of the third week, Liam sits pressed up against Harry’s side, whispering things in his ear every now and then. Zayn never looks at Harry, doesn’t want the ache in his heart that will come with it. He’d long ago accepted the fact that he is in love with Harry and the feeling isn’t mutual, but Harry’s words from the pool still echo in his ears.

The only time he sees Harry throughout the week is the occasional time he’ll glance out his window and see him running. He doesn’t know when Harry picked up the habit, but Zayn doesn’t take the time to watch him. It’d be so easy to stare, get lost in the sweat running down his bare chest and focus on the band wrapped around his bicep, bigger than Zayn remembers from summer’s before, holding his iPod. But it’s different now, watching him.

It makes something ache, and it’s not the good ache when you’re standing outside and watching the world spin around you, the enormity of everything seeping through your bones and causing your breath to stagger as you take in the world. No, this is a different ache; this one hurts.

*

Harry gets voted ‘Instructor of the Week’ at the end of the third week and Zayn watches as Harry walks to where Uncle Ben is standing on a plastic chair in front of the camper’s during morning line-up. He smiles tightly as he takes the piece of paper, sending a wink towards the Hawks – another one of the groups that is obsessed with Mr. Harry and the Arts & Crafts garage – when they cheer for him.

When Zayn walks by the Arts & Crafts garage and sees the four-year-old girls in there making a mess with yarn as Harry sits in the back and watches them through slow eyes, he wonders if anything really makes Harry smile anymore.

*

On Monday, Harry finds him during lunch. Liam has a meeting with his staff and the campers are having a picnic out on the softball fields, so Louis and Niall are with their groups. It’s been a week since the pool incident, as Zayn has taken to calling it in his mind, and Zayn’s locked everything about that day far back in his heart, refusing to let it ache or ruin his relationship with Harry anymore.

“Hey,” Zayn says as Harry walks in. He doesn’t get a response, but he didn’t really expect one either.

Harry stops once he’s only a few feet from Zayn, and he looks a little unsure. Zayn doesn’t say anything, head tilting to the side as a silent question. Harry’s mouth falls open as if he’s going to say something, and Zayn gives a brief nod in encouragement, but he closes it just as fast. The distance between them is closed only a few seconds later as Zayn finds himself pulled tight against Harry’s chest and their lips crash together.

Hands move over his back slowly and Zayn’s fingers tangle in Harry’s curls, fingernails scratching lightly against his scalp.

“Tell me to stop,” Harry breathes as he places gentle kisses along Zayn’s neck, juxtaposed with the hands on his hips squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. “Zayn.” Harry nips at the skin above his collarbone and sucks. There’ll be a bruise there later, but nothing in him seems to care about that. His hands grasp at Harry’s shoulder, trying to drag their bodies closer together if it’s possible. “Tell me to stop,” Harry says again, and it almost sounds like he’s pleading.

“No.”

Zayn kisses Harry and gets lost in the feeling, toes curling in his shoes and his hips jerk forward. Harry opens his mouth a little, letting Zayn suck his bottom lip into his mouth before he pulls away. He buries his face in Zayn’s neck again, licking at the delicate skin before blowing cool air over it.

“Why not?”

It takes everything Zayn has to pull away from Harry in that moment. He steps back so their bodies aren’t pressed together anymore, hands roaming over Harry’s neck before they cup his cheeks, forcing Harry to actually meet his eyes for once.

“Because I don’t want to stop,” he says, eyes wide as he implores Harry to believe him. “Do you want to stop?”

It’s the first time Zayn’s ever questioned whether or not Harry wants this, wants _him._ Harry’s almost always the one to initiate things between them, and even if Zayn has always - even if he didn't realize it when he was younger - longed for something more, he never had to wish that Harry would notice him or want him; at least he always had that.

Harry sucks in a shaky breath and his bottom lip quivers. Zayn presses his thumb against it, and Harry nips at the tip before sucking it into his mouth. A moan falls from his lips as his eyes flutter. Harry releases his thumb with a pop, his fingers scrunching up Zayn’s t-shirt a little so he can trace across the sensitive skin just above the top of his pants.

“I don’t want to stop,” Harry whispers into the quiet of the room and Zayn nods, pressing at Harry’s neck until he tilts it down so Zayn can kiss him again.

“Good,” he mumbles into his mouth.

Harry spins him around a minute later, arms wrapping around his chest and undoing the buttons of his shirt, fingers flicking over his nipples as he traces over his now bare chest.

“God, look at you,” he mumbles, and Zayn lets his eyes focus across the room at the wall of mirrors. His cock twitches at the sight of them and he lets out an involuntary groan. Harry meets his gaze in the mirror, eyes dark as he presses up against him so Zayn can feel the hard outline of his cock. One of his hands snakes around Harry’s body and squeezes his ass, pulling him close as Zayn pushes back.

They both look a mess already, lips red and eyes blown black. At some point Harry had pulled Zayn’s topknot out so his hair is falling in front of his face, Harry’s curls brushing over his shoulders. Harry strips Zayn’s shirt all the way off, the soft touch of his curls against his heated skin causing him to moan.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Harry sounds breathless and he sucks the lobe of Zayn’s ear into his mouth.

Zayn watches Harry’s fingers dance over his chest and down to his shorts, pulling them down around his thighs until Zayn’s cock is out. Zayn’s barely aware of Harry pulling a bottle of lube out of his pocket and squeezing some onto his hand before he grips Zayn’s cock.

“Shit,” Zayn moans, head falling back against Harry’s shoulder. His legs are already shaking a little; the arm wrapped tight around his waist the only thing keeping him upright.

Harry strokes him slowly until Zayn’s whining, jerking his hips forward needily to get him to move forward. He feels Harry’s smirk against his neck but he doesn’t care because a moment later Harry’s hand speeds up, wrist twisting in the way he know Zayn likes. He brushes his thumb over the head of his cock and Zayn feels warmth rushing through his body, stomach muscles tightening.

“Fuck, Haz,” he whimpers, unable to stop as he comes messily over his stomach and Harry’s hand. He collapses into Harry’s arms, trusting him to keep him standing as he slowly comes back to himself, eyes blinking open and focusing blearily on the image of them in the mirror. Harry’s got one arm holding him up as he licks Zayn’s come off the fingers of his other hand; Zayn’s cock twitches in interest.

“Do you need me to _–_ ” He trails off, waving his hand in the air knowing Harry understands.

“I’m okay,” Harry says against his cheek, and Zayn turns his head to the side so they can kiss. He groans as Harry presses against him and he realizes he came already and he can taste himself on Harry’s tongue. They spend a few more minutes wrapped around each other until the alarm on Zayn’s phone goes off to let him know he has ten minutes until his next group is scheduled to be there.

Harry disappears into the bathroom in the room and comes out with his hair no longer a mess and a wet towel, holding it out for Zayn so he can clean himself up. Zayn pulls his shorts back up and buttons his shirt, a surprised laugh falling from his lips as he feels Harry’s hands in his hair pulling it back into his signature topknot.

“Thanks, babe.” The endearment falls from his lips without thinking about it. He takes the fact that Harry didn’t even flinch in his movements to be a sign that maybe it’s okay.

Once they’re both presentable enough, Harry makes to leave. Zayn follows him out the door, glancing around before he fists his hand in Harry’s t-shirt and pulls him closer, kissing him hard.

“See you later?” he asks once they break a part and Harry nods before walking across the street to the Arts & Crafts garage, where his group is already waiting for him.

*

At the end of the day, Zayn’s sitting on the floor packing up the instruments he’d been using for his last group and singing along under his breath to the music playing from his phone. There’s a knock on his door and he looks up to see Louis pushing it open, closely followed by Liam and Niall.

“What’re you doing here?” Zayn asks in way of a greeting, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. It’s not totally uncommon for any of them to stay late considering it was only last week that Zayn had stayed after to talk to Liam, but the three of them look more serious than usual and Zayn gets a sinking feeling in his stomach again. There’s only one time he can recall the three of them looking at Zayn like this, and if it’s anything like the last time, Zayn wants to shut them up before they have a chance to say anything.

“Can we talk?” Niall asks, and Louis slaps him on the back of the head lightly. It’s not enough to warrant Niall’s loud “ow” or the hand rubbing at where Louis hit him, but that’s Niall.

“We’re not actually asking,” Louis clarifies, and even though he’s looking at Niall, Zayn knows that he’s really talking to him. Liam bites his lip, looking around the room nervously. Louis steps forward with his arms crossed, clearly the ringleader in… whatever this is.

“Okay?” Zayn says but it comes out as a question. He can feel his heart beating a little faster and his nerves have his hairs standing up, a slight defensive edge to him now even though he’s not sure what this is all about.

Niall closes the door behind them and flicks the lock. If Zayn was in a better headspace, he’d make a joke about them coming to kill him and locking the door so he can’t escape. As it stands though, Zayn doesn’t say anything, just places the last of the instruments into one of the cubbies and sits down on the floor. He gestures in front of him and the three of them sit in a slight arch across from him.

Louis’ face is serious, hands clenching his calves where he’s sitting cross-legged, directly in front of Zayn. There’s a challenge in his eyes, but Zayn doesn’t back down and look away. He feels a bit like a child about to get scolded by his parents; he remembers his dad having the same look on his face when his parents sat him down last summer and told him he needed to stop smoking. He didn’t listen to them then, and he doubts he’s going to listen to Louis now.

“It’s about Harry,” Niall pipes up when no one has said anything for a while and the silence has grown suffocating.

Zayn’s stomach turns a little, and he decides Niall needs to stop being the first one to speak when it comes to getting bad news surrounding Harry, so he turns to Liam instead. Niall telling him about Harry doesn’t spark good memories.

“Are you and Harry together?” Liam asks when he realizes Zayn is waiting for him to talk. He sounds like he already knows the answer to the question, but Zayn knows that he really knows nothing. None of them do, because he’s never told them about anything that’s happened with Harry over the years, and he has a pretty good feeling Harry’s never said anything to them either. He might’ve told Liam about the kiss when they were thirteen, but Zayn doubts it.

“No,” he says, but it sounds unsure even to his own ears. Internally, he curses himself; he knows the way things are with him and Harry, that they’re just fuck buddies and friends and nothing more, but the part of him that constantly hopes for more seeps through sometimes.

“You were kissing,” Louis says. Zayn’s head jerks to him and he doesn’t have to say anything to confirm it, his wide eyes do that for him. Something like guilt starts to fill him, but he tries to press it away. He shouldn’t feel guilty about this; he _doesn’t_ feel guilty about this, but the way Louis’ staring at him with deep judgment in his eyes makes him feel like he should be.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” They all know it’s a lie.

“Fuck off, Zayn. I saw you after lunch. And it looked like you’d been doing a bit more than kissing.” Louis’ eyes burn like they’re trying to set him on fire, and Zayn feels more confused than anything else, a hint of anger at the edges of his emotions as well.

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for Louis to continue.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

Zayn laughs and it’s cold and bitter even to his ears. “What happened to _‘It’s okay if you do, Z’_?” he asks, echoing Louis’ words from when they were thirteen. He’s not sure that he’ll remember, but Louis’ eyes go slightly wide in shock and Zayn knows he does.

“We were thirteen.”

“Oh, so now that we’re twenty-one, it’s not okay for me to like a boy.”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you fucking know it!” Louis yells. He calms at Liam’s slight touch to his shoulder.

“Zayn –“ Niall tries, but Zayn cuts him off with a click of his wrist.

“What’s this then?” Zayn says, gesturing to where Liam’s hand is still curled around Louis. “What’s so different about me and Harry fooling around and you and Liam fooling around?”

“I love Liam!” Louis says quickly and then he immediately falls silent. His eyes are wide in surprise and when Zayn glances over at Liam, there’s a telltale blush creeping up the sides of his neck and coloring his cheeks.

“Why won’t you go on a date with me then?” Liam asks quietly. Zayn’s anger is still brewing in his veins, but he stays silent, knowing that this is something the two of them need to work out. And even if he’d rather not have it happen in the middle of an argument about him and Harry, he’s glad for the distraction.

He watches as Louis turns to Liam, his eyes soft and touch gentle as he cups Liam’s cheek. “I want to,” Louis whispers and it sounds like a promise. “But I can’t – I - ” Zayn hears the frustration in his voice and Louis closes his eyes. “I can’t if you don’t like me back.”

Louis opens his eyes but now he’s avoiding Liam’s gaze, hand falling back to his lap so they’re no longer touching. “I know that is shit,” he mumbles. “And not fair, because maybe if we date you could love me, but I can’t take the risk you won’t and then have it hurt and –“

Liam shuts him up with a kiss. Zayn can’t remember ever hearing Louis so vulnerable before, too used to the constant teasing and sarcastic comments.

“I already love you, you idiot,” Liam says as he pulls back, a smile on his face that Louis matches once he’s processed the words, eyes crinkling happily. The moment’s broken when Louis moves his hand and twists Liam’s nipple, laughing at the yelp that falls from Liam’s mouth.

“Friday night then. Take me to dinner. I expect flowers.”

Zayn shakes his head at Louis’ stupidity, ignoring how completely enamored Liam looks. He doesn’t quite understand them or how they work, but he thinks maybe that’s okay. Maybe the only ones who really needs to understand Liam and Louis are Liam and Louis.

“Are we done then?” Zayn presses his hands against the floor and starts to push himself up, but he freezes when Louis snaps his head to him and levels a glare at him with a click of his tongue.

“Did you miss what I said?”

Zayn sighs and falls back down. “You love Liam, you expect flowers, blah blah. I get it.”

Louis scoffs. “No. You really, really don’t Zayn. I _love_ Liam.”

Zayn glances over to Niall, hoping that maybe he’ll be the sane one in all of this, but he’s steadfastly avoiding his gaze.

“Can someone fucking explain?” he asks in frustration, hands thrown up in anger - a gesture he'd long ago picked up from Louis. He’s tired of this; tired of Louis’ eyes judging him for a reason he doesn’t understand and tired of Niall avoiding his gaze and tired of Liam looking like he’d rather be somewhere else.

It’s Liam’s voice, though, that breaks their tense silence. “Do you love Harry?”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, but that’s an answer to the question all the same. Liam sighs heavily.

“Does Harry love you?”

Zayn stays silent again, and that’s another answer as well.

“Whatever this is that you and Harry have going on, it should stop.”

The words come from Liam instead of Louis, which isn’t what he was expecting. Niall nods his head slowly in agreement, and Louis’ face softens into something like pity. Zayn thinks Louis can shove his pity up his ass, but he manages to bite his tongue to keep from saying that aloud. None of them have any idea what is going on between him and Harry, so there’s no place for them to be sitting here lecturing him. He ignores the voice in the back of his head telling him that he doesn’t know what’s going on between them either.

Liam sighs when Zayn doesn’t agree. “Did you know Harry’s never had a boyfriend before?”

Zayn nods. He actually didn’t know for sure, but it’s not exactly a surprise to hear.

“Harry doesn’t do relationships,” Zayn says, a repetition of the words Harry had told him when they were younger, flicking the words around like it was too stupid to ever consider such a thing.

“He doesn’t keep people, Zayn.” Niall is the one to say it, and Zayn wasn’t ready for that. Niall, who always seems so carefree and happy. “Haven’t you noticed that?”

“He’s kept us. He’s kept Liam,” Zayn says and waves his hand at the other boy. There’s a tone of desperation to his voice, pleading with them to let him have this, to let him continue to live in his world where everything is fine between him and Harry, even if he’s in love and the feelings aren't returned. Liam shakes his head slowly and Zayn feels his stomach drop.

“I lost my best friend when we were eighteen.”

“He’s always with you!” Zayn protests.

“He’s there, but he’s not,” Liam says, and he sounds sad. Zayn’s always known, peripherally, that something had changed between Liam and Harry, but he never pressed the thought. Louis wraps his arms around Liam and pulls him close. Liam let’s out a harsh breath and rests his head on Louis’ shoulder, jaw clenched and Zayn knows that look, has had it too many times when it comes to Harry. He knows Liam’s trying not to break, not now. He chances a glance at Louis and the hardness at the edges of his eyes suggests this isn’t the first time he’s had to hold Liam and comfort him when it comes to Harry.

For the first time, Zayn feels pure anger boiling in him towards Harry. He’s known Louis, Niall and Zayn since they were ten, and Liam once told him how they actually met when they were four in pre-school and were attached at the hip ever since. Part of his anger is directed at himself though, because he never realized - never even took the time to think - that Harry's distance effects the other boys too.

“He’s still my best friend,” Liam whispers. “But he’s changed. He doesn’t… He was always a little bit weird, y’know?”

They all let out a slight laugh; that's a bit of an understatement, really.

“But I was always the only friend he was really _close_ too. Harry was popular, but not. Everyone knew him, and he had people he was close to for a month or so but then he moved on to someone else. He’s always kind of… Flitted from people to people.”

Liam sniffs and Niall moves to the other side of the room so he can place a hand on Liam’s back. Zayn wants to reach out, but Liam’s words keep him still. He knows this already, noticed back before they'd even kissed for the first time, but something in Liam's voice makes him listen and think about it again. Liam just sounds so unbelievably sad, and Zayn wants to tell him it's okay, that Harry loves him and his best friend is still there. He can't though, so he stays quiet and watches Liam lean further into Louis' hold instead.

“He’s a good person,” Liam stresses the words. He lifts his head slightly like he’s challenging them to disagree but no one does. “He closed off when college started, though.”

Zayn knows, they all do; they all remember the day it started, even though Zayn didn't realize it until much later.

“He still picks up the phone when I call and meets me for lunch if I ask. If I’m lucky, he’ll be the one to call me. And it hurts, Zayn. It really does.” Liam takes a shaky breath and leans further against Louis. “I know what it’s like to have Harry and lose him even though he’s right there talking to you. I don’t want that for you.”

_Too late,_ Zayn says to himself.

“We’re worried,” Louis says when it’s clear Liam’s not going to say anything else. “We love you both, but if anyone’s going to get hurt with whatever it is you and Harry are doing, it’s going to be you.”

“I know,” Zayn breathes and buries his face in his hands. He feels three pairs of arms wrap around him and he leans into their touch. He’s known for a while now that things need to stop between him and Harry, but Zayn doesn’t want them to. No matter how much it hurts (Zayn actively works not to focus on that though), he’s never wanted to cut off this thing between him and Harry. Being able to hold Harry close aches when he knows it’s something different for them both, but the thought of not having Harry in his life at all scares him. And he knows he needs to face it; knows this is their last summer together. Zayn won’t be back next year; none of them will, probably. They’ll be graduating college and off looking for real jobs instead of fucking around for a summer together. There’s a part of him, a part Zayn has never once let himself actively acknowledge, that always hoped each passing summer would be the summer Harry realized they could be something more. He knows he has to let go off that, bury that thought six feet under where it belongs. But he can’t.

“I’m sorry.”

And that’s Liam’s soft voice against his ear. There’s nothing else to say though, so Zayn just tucks his face against Liam’s neck and breathes.

 

* * *

 

 

**_six years ago…_ **

_A crack of thunder rattles through the Gym as the rain pounds against the roof._ Heavyweights _plays in the background of whispered conversations and hands slapping against wood as the campers play whatever the latest card game is. The counselors are sitting in white plastic chairs with their legs kicked up on another chair or one another, talking about whatever the latest gossip is. It’s always the same on a rainy day at camp. Harry and Zayn snuck off a while ago, each telling their respective counselors for the group they’re a CIT for this year that they were going to the bathroom. Really, they’re hidden in the tiny space between the Gym and the Main Office. It’s all one building, but Louis discovered a space between the rooms that it’s fairly easy to hide out in. It's an unfinished space, too tiny to actually be anything. They can see the wood frame where wall was never plastered, and Zayn doesn't know what the purpose of this space - tucked away in the corned around the wall of the hallway connecting the two rooms - was when it was originally built, but it serves a good purpose now._

_“Are they ever going to find a new film?” Zayn asks as he hears Ben Stiller’s voice filter through the closed door, yelling at some kid._

_“You know the campers always vote.” Harry’s lying on his back with his legs kicked up against the wall; Zayn sits with his legs crossed next to him. He’s slightly amused by the way Harry’s longer curls are splayed out on the floor. Apparently he refuses to get it cut right now. “Seems at summer camp all kids want to do is watch a movie about summer camp.”_

_Harry closes his eyes and hums along to the music coming from Zayn’s headphones where they lie on his stomach, volume turned all the way up so both of them can hear. He mouths along with the words, lips forming delicately around each phrase, and Zayn becomes conscious of the urge to lean down and kiss him._

_The urge to kiss Harry has weaseled its way into Zayn’s being since they kissed two years ago. It took him a little while to realize that his feelings for Harry aren’t exactly the same as his feelings for Liam or Louis or Niall. They're something a little a more, and Zayn’s still unsure what it all means. He’s glad Louis and Liam are over at the Junior Camp this year, meaning they’re somewhere else during the Rain Day. Niall’s in the Gym too, but last Zayn saw he was sitting with some of the Junior Counselors and talking about some sport. Zayn’s knows if the other boys were here, especially Louis, they’d be able to read the want on Zayn’s face. He’s only fifteen, he thinks he’s allowed to feel horny sometimes._

_And that was an even weirder realization to come to once he’d figured it out one day when he couldn’t tear his eyes away from where Harry was climbing out of the pool, eyes tracing the drops of water that trailed down his chest. He was a attracted to his friend, a boy, and it left him feeling a little off kilter because he didn't know what he was supposed to do._

“It’s okay if you do, Z.”

_Louis’ words from two years ago echo in his head, and he wonders how Louis knew what Zayn was feeling before Zayn even understood what it meant to like someone and date them. He doesn’t know what he wants from Harry, other than to kiss him again. It’s glaringly obvious he likes boys though. Or maybe it’s just Harry, because there is a pretty fit girl in one of his school classes._

_“Stop staring.” Harry interrupts his thoughts and Zayn glances down to see Harry looking at him with his eyebrows raised. “I know I’m cute, Gem tells me all the time, but you can stop.”_

_Zayn laughs awkwardly and rubs at the back of his neck._

_“Can I ask you something?”_

_Harry shrugs and closes his eyes again, continuing to hum along with the music even as the song changes. “Sure.”_

_Zayn sucks in a breath. “Why did you kiss me two years ago?”_

_Harry doesn’t even flinch at the question, barely seems to even register the words. “Because I wanted to,” he says easily._

_“But did you – I mean –” Zayn runs a hand down his face in frustration. “It’s just, I’m a boy – and, well, just –”_

_“Are you asking me if I’m gay?” Harry interrupts his rambling, eyes blinking open and there’s a slight smirk dancing on his lips. Zayn laughs harshly as a response. He picks at the ends of his shorts as Harry moves to sit up, long legs crossed – he’s already taller than Zayn – as he positions himself in front of him. “Because it doesn’t really matter to me. Guy or girl. I’ve kissed both.”_

_Zayn doesn’t focus on the idea of Harry kissing someone else; he doesn’t._

_“Oh.”_

_“Are you gay?” Harry asks simply as though he’s just asking about the weather. And maybe it is that simple to Harry; maybe Zayn’s over-complicating everything._

_“I don’t know.”_

_Harry hums a little. “Well,” he tilts his head in thought, “did you like kissing me?”_

_Zayn nods._

_“And do you like kissing girls?”_

_Zayn bites his lip. “I never have.” I’ve only ever kissed you, he admits in his head._

_Harry slaps him on the arm and laughs. “Kiss a girl then and figure out if you like kissing them too.”_

_“What if I don’t?”_

_“Then you don’t.”_

_It’s so simple when Harry says it, but Zayn doesn’t know if it’s as simple as he makes it seem. He sees the way kids tease at school; notices that the only couples he sees in the hallway are boys and girls. There was a senior guy last year who took another boy to the prom, and while no one outright stopped him or said anything, that he heard of, he saw the looks the guy got in the hallway. They weren’t all bad; he knew there was some kind of Gay-Straight Alliance thing at his school._

_“It’s that simple?” Zayn bites his lip and stares at his hand, twisting the rings around his fingers._

_“That’s what Gems said,” Harry shrugs. “Well, she hugged me really tight for five minutes and then said ‘You can kiss whoever you want.’”_

_Zayn doesn’t have much time to think about that because they’re interrupted by someone clearing their throat. He looks over to see Nick, one of the Junior Counselors, watching them with crossed arms._

_“What are you two doing? You’re supposed to be in the gym.”_

_“Oops.” Harry laughs and brushes the dirt off his shorts, handing Zayn’s iPod back to him with a shrug. Nick leaves once Harry pulls Zayn to his feet and it’s clear they’re going to return to the gym._

_“Hey, Harry?” Zayn stops Harry with a tug on his wrist before they go back._

_“Why me?”_

_“Why you?” He asks in confusion._

_“Why did you kiss me?”_

_“Oh,” Harry smiles. “I wanted my first kiss to be with a friend; figured it was best to get it out of the way, and I’d be less nervous.”_

_Zayn’s heart sinks a little and he doesn’t know why. He pushes the feeling away._

_“So why not Liam?” The question comes out before Zayn even realizes it was bothering him._

_Harry shrugs like it doesn’t matter and leans over to peck Zayn on the cheek. He slips his wrist out of Zayn’s grip and opens the door to the gym._

_“I didn’t want to kiss Liam,” he throws back over his shoulder with a wink. “I wanted to kiss you.”_

 

* * *

 

Zayn spends the rest of the week without Harry. They all still eat lunch together, but Zayn avoids letting them be alone together. It’s easier since Harry isn’t actively seeking him out the way he does sometimes. He remembers when they were seventeen and it seemed like Harry was always there waiting for him when he rounded the corner. It’s not like that this time. And Zayn knows that’s how it should be, knows it’s healthy and that he needs to distance himself from Harry. Liam’s words echo in his head throughout the week, and the stark sadness that was etched into every line of his face reminds Zayn where he stands to end up if he lets this thing with Harry go any further.

But then he remembers the picture he’d taken of Harry earlier in the summer; remembers seeing the same sadness Liam had let show etched into the lines of Harry’s face when no one was watching.

It’s harder to stay away after that, but then again, Zayn wasn’t really trying to in the first place. 

 

* * *

 

 

**_five years ago…_ **

_“Where are we going?” Zayn asks as Harry pulls him along in the dark. Their fingers are laced together tight and Harry squeezes his hand and tugs him along even harder instead of answering the question. He trips over the gravel and falls against Harry’s back with a loud grunt. A flashlight flickers on in a tent and he ducks behind one of the oak trees with Harry, burying his laugh against his shoulder as he hears the zip of the tent and sees the shadow on the grass of the softball fields as a counselor sticks their head out to see what’s going on and what caused the noise. A minute later he hears the zip of the tent again and the light flickers out._

_“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Harry sings under his breath, pinching his side. Zayn hisses a little under his breath but bites back any other sound. They’re not supposed to be out of their tents right now, especially as Junior Counselors. It’s the camp out night and they should both really be with their groups right now; a camper or one of their counselors could wake up at any moment. But when Harry snuck into Zayn’s tent and kept pulling his arm and wouldn’t let him go back to sleep, Zayn followed him outside._

_“C’mon.” Harry pulls him away from the tree and up the hill, both of them a little out of breath once they reach the top from the heat in the air and trying to keep quiet. The pass by the bike shed and CIT shack, climbing up the larger hill until they’re at the main building where the nurse’s office is. No one ever comes up here; it’s a school during the year and the only time the camper’s use it is for the nurse. The main office for the camp is down the hill across from the Game Room._

_“Harry,” Zayn pants and lets go of his hand to rest his hands on his knees, kneeling over and breathing harshly. They'd sprinted up the hills - mainly out of fear that someone would see them - but now that adrenaline rush has dissipated. “What are we doing up here?”_

_Harry shakes his head and pulls something out of his pocket. He steps closer to the back door and Zayn watches with wide eyes as the door swings open only a moment later._

_“Louis made a copy of the key forever ago,” Harry says as a way of explanation. It still doesn’t answer the question of why they’re here, but Zayn follows Harry inside the building anyway. He goes to flick on a light switch but Harry’s hand on his stops him._

_“They’ll see the light.”_

_Zayn nods and gives his eyes a few minutes to adjust. There’s a full moon out tonight illuminating them both through the windows allowing Zayn to still see Harry clearly. He’s holding something up in his hands with a smile on his face, a devious glint in his eyes from what Zayn can tell._

_“Harry…” Zayn shakes his head in disbelief once he processes what Harry's holding. “What?”_

_“This is a condom,” Harry says like he’s explaining the alphabet to a pre schooler. “And this is lube.”_

_“I know what those are.” Zayn rolls his eyes and steps forward. “Why do you have them?”_

_“I want you to fuck me.”_

_Zayn’s world tilts on its axis for a second and he’s sure he misheard Harry. But the serious look in Harry’s eyes tells him that he didn’t mishear and that this isn’t a joke._

_“Why?” is all he can think to ask._

_“Why not?” Harry counters._

_They fall into silence for a few moments before Harry reaches up to start unbuttoning his shirt. Zayn steps forward and stills his hands, squeezing his fingers slightly before he takes the condom and lube out of his hands._

_“What is this?” Zayn tries again, eyes wide and imploring Harry to give him some kind of actual answer this time. Harry sighs and flicks his hair out of his eyes._

_“I’ve never been in a relationship.” Zayn nods, he already knows this. “I don’t want to be in a relationship. They’re messy and stupid and never end well. Not for my mom and dad, and Liam and Danielle broke up last week and you know he’s been moping around camp all day.”_

_Zayn nods again; he still doesn’t understand why any of this has led them here, and he’s also choosing to ignore the part where Harry says he never wants a relationship. He knows they can work; Doniya’s been with her boyfriend for the past two years and his parents are still together. And Harry deserves to be with someone, to have someone look at him the way his dad looks at his mom._

_“I don’t want the mess of a relationship,” Harry says again and shrugs. “But I want to have sex. And we’re friends and we both like each other and we both like dick, so why not?”_

_Zayn chokes a little at Harry’s blunt statement, but it’s not as though he can deny it. He went out on a few dates with a girl from school a few months ago, and his complete lack of interest when they kissed sealed what he was already sure of: he’s gay. He told the boys at the beginning of this summer, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck and his eyes avoiding theirs as he said it out loud for the first time. Louis just said a quick “me too” and then skipped off to find the group he was a Junior Counselor for that year and that was that._

_“Don’t you want your first time to be with someone special?” Zayn asks once he’s found his voice again._

_Harry scoffs and waves his hand. “That whole idea is stupid, Z. Relationships and all that. People come and go, there’s no reason to get attached like that. We’re here. You’re attractive, I’m attractive. Come on, Zayn.” Harry’s hands are on his hips, one cocked out as he raises his eyebrows almost as if daring Zayn to say no. “Do you want me to beg?” He teases, a laugh in his voice._

_Zayn doesn’t know where Harry finds his confidence right now, but he feeds off of it. There may be a few sticking points, because Zayn knows he’s already attached to Harry – he’s one of his best friends, but Zayn can’t deny that he wants Harry. And he never though his first time would be like this, in the nurse's office at camp; something should feel off about that, it should feel wrong. He should be nervous or scared or want to what until he's properly with someone, but it's Harry. He feels infinitely comfortable with Harry, and he doesn't want to say no - even if he maybe should. If the way Harry’s staring at the slight bulge in his pants means anything, Harry’s aware that Zayn wants this too._

_“Okay?” Harry moves closer to Zayn until their chests are pressed together, one hand cupping Zayn’s cheek as the other slips around his waist to tug him closer. Their lips are centimeters apart and Zayn shivers as Harry’s fingers dip under his t-shirt and press at the skin of his back._

_Zayn leans forward and captures Harry’s lips in a kiss as an answer. Harry moans into his mouth and holds him tighter, breaking away a moment later with a startled laugh._

_“Fuck, I didn’t think you’d say yes,” he whispers against Zayn’s mouth._

_“Did you want me to say no?” Zayn breathes, praying for Harry to say no._

_“Not at all.”_

_Harry spins Zayn around and pushes him down onto one of the bed’s in the nurse’s suite, climbing on top of him and straddling his legs. He rolls his hips down against him and Zayn moans at the friction, his cock fully hard in his sweatpants now. Harry leans down and kisses him again, tongue slipping into his mouth as he fists his hands in Zayn’s hair to hold him close. Zayn gives under Harry, letting him take control for the moment and sighing happily against his mouth. When they pull apart, Zayn’s eyes darken at the redness of Harry’s lips, grabbing his hips and flipping them over so he’s on top._

_The buttons of Harry’s shirt are all already undone, and Zayn’s not sure when he accomplished that but he appreciates it all the same. He licks over Harry’s collarbone before sucking a bruise into the skin, his fingers trailing over Harry’s chest slowly and he twists his nipples, smirking against Harry’s skin when the boy gasps as they grow hard under his fingers._

_They’re a mess of hands and kisses, unsure touches and laughter. Harry slides out from underneath Zayn to take his pants off, and why he’s wearing skinny jeans in the middle of the night Zayn doesn’t question. He does laugh when Harry trips and falls into the cabinet trying to get them off, though._

_His own clothes join Harry’s in a pile next to the bed and then they’re standing in front of each other, completely naked and staring. Soft pants fill the room as they each try to catch their breath, eyes roaming over one another and drinking in the sight._

_“Fuck, you’re hot,” Harry says like he’s in a daze._

_Zayn preens a little at the praise, warmth swimming through him and he feels like he’ll combust if he doesn’t touch Harry soon._

_“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Zayn admits._

_Harry smiles a little. “I know.”_

_“You know I don’t know what I’m doing or you know what you’re doing?”_

_They both laugh at the question, effectively breaking any of the residual tension in the room._

_“Both.”_

_Zayn pulls Harry down onto the bed with him and they spend the next few minutes exploring each other’s mouths. He widens his legs so Harry can fit between them, both gasping against each other when their cocks touch._

_Harry reaches over and grabs the lube next to the pillow, pressing it into Zayn’s hands as he rocks his hips down again and moans. “You have to use your fingers first.”_

_Zayn nods quickly and takes the lube from Harry as Harry spreads his legs further above Zayn so that now he's straddling his hips. He kisses him again, nipping at his bottom lip and making Zayn hiss._

_It’s a slow build, Zayn taking his time to open Harry up, unsure each time he presses another finger inside and Harry hisses like he’s pain. Harry always tells him he’s okay, just needs a moment and then encourages him to keep going until Zayn has three fingers in him and Harry’s fucking back against him, practically whining with need._

_“M’ready,” he breathes._

_Zayn nods and grabs the condom, pausing for a moment as he looks up at Harry. “You should get on your hands and knees,” he says, voice rough with desire and pitched lower than normal. “Isn’t it easier that way?”_

_Harry slips off of Zayn and kneels on the bed, looking back over his shoulder at Zayn with hooded eyes. “C’mon,” he practically begs. “Fuck me, Z.”_

_Zayn moans and climbs onto the bed. He rolls the condom on quickly and slicks himself up, slowly pressing inside of Harry, pausing only once he’s completely in, hands tight on Harry's hips. They stay like that for a few minutes, neither one moving as they both adjust. Zayn closes his eyes and tries not to come immediately from the tight feeling of being inside Harry. He smoothes one hand over Harry's back slowly as he waits for him to be okay, pressing soft kisses over the skin at the dip of his spine._

_“You can move,” Harry breathes after a little while, slowly pushing his hips back against Zayn to get his point across. He glances back at him, a slight smile on his face and Zayn leans forward to kiss him, moaning as it pushes him deeper inside. Harry finds his hand where it's fallen down on the bed and squeezes his fingers, signaling Zayn that he’s okay._

_Neither of them lasts particularly long, but Zayn manages to hold back until he feels Harry clench around him, coming seconds later. His body shakes a bit with the force of it and he’s left with his head pressed to Harry’s back and panting when it’s over._

_“Fuck,” Harry whispers as his arms give out from under him and he collapses against the bed. Zayn hums in agreement, pulling out gently – he doesn’t miss Harry’s slight hiss as he does – and rolling over onto his back next to Harry. They’re squeezed tight together on the small twin bed, but neither of them minds. Zayn tugs the condom off, ties it, and throws it in the trash._

_He feels the soft press of warm lips against his shoulder. When he looks down Harry is lying on his stomach with his chin propped on Zayn’s collarbone as he looks up at him. Zayn tilts his head up further so he can kiss him, and they spend the next little while like that until they need to return to their tents. Zayn lets the feeling of Harry’s lips against his seep through his bones and memorizes the taste of him, knowing that tomorrow’s the last day of camp for this summer and then Harry will disappear from his life for another year._

 

* * *

 

During the middle of the fifth week, they have a carnival day for the senior campers. It’s a free for all day, the kids able to run around to wherever they want as long as they don't leave the senior camp area. There's tents and balloons, a bouncy house and a pool obstacle course. Most of the activities are cancelled, unless it's something for the junior campers. Because of that, the second half of Zayn’s schedule is free; his morning was dedicated to the junior campers, but his senior campers that he was supposed to have that afternoon are off running around and making a mess. He walks by the Arts & Crafts garage, more out of habit than anything else, and frowns when he doesn’t see Harry there.

Zayn spends the next hour moving around the camp, stopping to join one or two campers in a game when they pull him in or to talk to Louis when he sees him sitting in a tree watching the chaos around him. He climbs the stairs to the Gym, side steps the dodgeball game that looks a bit too intense, and opens the back door to the hidden space he remembers from years ago. He stops short though when he sees somebody’s already there; somebody with curly hair who’s lying on his back with his knees bent and his hands folded together on his stomach.

“Hi,” Harry says and Zayn laughs a little because Harry looks upside down from this position and now he’s waving at him slightly. He moves over a little and pats the spot on the floor next to him.

Zayn pulls the door closed and moves into the space to lie down with Harry, their shoulders pressed together once he’s settled. It’s a small space, always was, but it’s almost suffocating now that him and Harry have grown, leaving hardly enough room for them to fit comfortably without completely invading each other’s space. Harry doesn’t appear to mind though, and Zayn doesn’t either.

“Avoiding Carnival Day?” Harry asks, but Zayn knows he’s not really asking. The fact that Harry was already here when Zayn walked in suggests he was planning to do the same.

“Sit up for a second.”

Zayn complies with the request easily. Harry puts his arm out and gestures for Zayn to lie back down. They’re wrapped together now: Harry’s arm around Zayn’s shoulders to hold him close; Zayn throwing his right arm across Harry’s stomach. He turns on his side a little and pillows his head on Harry’s shoulder. He takes a few deep breaths to keep himself calm, knowing that this doesn’t mean anything even if it feels like everything he wants.

Harry starts humming under his breath and Zayn closes his eyes. A few minutes pass comfortably and Zayn feels himself starting to drift, breath evening out. He falls asleep on Harry without meaning to, the soft touch of Harry’s fingers in his hair relaxing him even further.

When he wakes up it’s to the feeling of Harry’s fingers against his forearm. He blinks his eyes open slowly, pressing his face against Harry’s chest briefly to avoid the light for a little longer. Harry’s chest shakes underneath him a little, and when he looks up he sees the slightest trace of a laugh on his face, but his eyes are empty of it. Zayn rests his head down again and looks at where his arm is still thrown across Harry’s waist. Harry’s not touching him randomly; instead his fingers are tracing over his tattoos.

“Why’d you get this?” Harry asks as he traces over the letters of his _ZAP!_ tattoo slowly.

“I like comic books,” Zayn explains easily.

Harry doesn’t ask about any of his other tattoos, but he traces each of the ones he sees with delicate fingers. He hovers over the dove on the side of Zayn’s hand, his touch even lighter as he traces it. The touch almost feels stronger than the others though, a reverent touch that hadn’t been there as he traced any of the other tattoos. Zayn tries not to dwell on it though, and he fights the urge to flip his wrist over so their palms rest together and he can curl his fingers around Harry’s hand. There’s something too delicate about the moment that Zayn knows the touch could scare Harry off. It’s rare for him to get Harry in quiet moments like this anymore, and he almost wants to hold his breath for as long as he can, knowing the slightest thing could shatter it.

“Why’d you get the anchor?” Zayn asks when Harry relaxes further underneath him and stops tracing his tattoos. Zayn takes the pause as his chance to do the same, lifting his hand to start tracing over the black lines inked into Harry’s skin.

“Liam was with me.” Softness permeates his words that edges too close to the side of fondness.

Harry doesn’t say it, but Zayn thinks that he’s trying to tell him he got the tattoo _for_ Liam. He doesn’t focus on it though, doesn’t ask Harry to clarify. He’s asked before, about the anchor and some of his other tattoos and simply gotten radio silence in return. There’s a risk in digging deeper right now, and Zayn’s not willing to take it yet.

“The scribbles?” Zayns traces the Aquarius symbol and the little padlock and key.

“I met this guy Ed during freshman year. “ _A friend._ Zayn fills in the missing words for him in his head. “He’s training to be a tattoo artist, so we did random doodles on each other.”

“The butterfly on your stomach?”

“Butterflies in your stomach.”

Zayn laughs and Harry does as well.

“The ship?”

“Sometimes I want to sail away.”

Numerous questions fill Zayn’s mind at that, but he doesn’t dare voice any of them.

“The three nails?”

“My family.”

“The masks on your side?”

“I like the theatre.”

Zayn thinks about Louis and how he told them when they were seventeen that he wanted to be a drama teacher.

“The _Hi!_?”

“I was drunk.”

Zayn knows the feeling; a few of his own small tattoos attributed to such a moment.

“The rose?”

“My favorite flower. There always used to be a vase of them when I was younger.”

“The badly drawn guitar?”

Harry snorts. Zayn thinks of a certain blonde haired guy who used to always have his guitar in the CIT shack.

“What’s the Hebrew mean?” He traces the characters slowly, touch gentle; remembers it being Harry’s first tattoo.

“Gemma.”

Harry’s voice is barely a whisper when he says it. Zayn nods slowly and doesn’t linger.

“What about the black heart?” Zayn remembers being surprised when he’d seen it for the first time last year. It had been one of his own first tattoos, and while not uncommon in the slightest, he was still a bit shocked when he saw Harry with the design the next year as well. “I have the same thing on my hip, you know.”

It’s not a question; Harry’s traced it enough times with his tongue to know it’s there.

He doesn’t answer, and Zayn lets the quiet fall back over them and they spend the rest of the afternoon like that, wrapped around each other in the silence, simply existing together.

*

Zayn spends the rest of the week and part of the next with Harry. Louis tries to talk to him more than once and Liam shoots him a few looks that are telling him to be cautious, but Zayn ignores them. He’s allowed to be close to Harry, to be his friend and have fun with him. They’re not really doing anything they never did before anyway. Harry comes to help him a few times when he has the chance and Zayn occasionally stops by the Arts & Crafts garage to take some pictures. He takes Harry with him around the camp during lunch one day, ignoring the looks from Louis, Liam and Niall when he tells them he and Harry won’t be joining them for lunch.

Harry lets Zayn lead him around the Junior Camp as he snaps pictures of everything there; the drama stage where one of the groups is working on their dance or play that they each group preforms during the camp out night in the last week. They go to the little farm further down the hill and past where the stage is. Zayn trips a little over the rocks, but Harry steadies him easily.

“Have you taken pictures of the entire camp?” He asks once they’re making their way back up the hill and towards the music room.

Zayn looks up from his camera; he was flicking quickly through the photos he’d taken, trying to think if there was anything else he wanted to stop and capture.

“Not entirely, but most of it. I want to remember it.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else and a few minutes later they’re walking through the door into the music room. Zayn lets out a sigh of relief at the cool air against his hot body. He places his camera in one of the cubbies and moves into the bathroom, wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with one of the towels he keeps in there. He throws it to Harry when he walks out of the door and pulls his hair up. Harry does the same a minute later, hair pulled back tight into a bun.

“Ever going to cut your hair?”

Harry shrugs. “I like it long.”

Zayn agrees, something about it just fits Harry in a way he doesn’t know how to explain.

The words bubble up in his throat apropos of nothing, and before he has a chance to stop himself he’s stepping closer to Harry and opening his mouth. They've been there for weeks, years really, but Zayn has always been able to bite them back. He can't now though; he's so tired of fighting so hard to fight how he feels, and something about Harry in this moment - a little sweaty with his hair pulled up and his sun kissed skin - breaks Zayn. It's nothing special, he's seen Harry look infinitely better, but maybe that's the point. Everything about Harry, no matter how he looks or feels or acts, just demands Zayn's attention and it's become near impossible to hide these days.

“I love you.”

Nothing happens; the world doesn’t shift and no emotion flickers across Harry’s face in recognition, surprise, shock, _anything_ in relation to Zayn’s admission. Zayn thinks about all the books he’s read and movies he’s watched, and he thinks it’s utter bullshit. Telling someone you love them doesn’t change anything; it doesn’t make his heart feel lighter or beat faster. There’s no volcanoes exploding with emotion or tears cascading down their cheeks. Nothing changes.

Instead of feeling happy or relieved that he’s finally said it out loud, and to Harry, Zayn feels cold. Empty. He’d rather Harry yell at him, _scream_ at him that he’s being stupid. Anything would be better than this suffocating silence.

For the first time, he’s truly aware of how much of a bitch love truly is. 

 

* * *

 

**_three years ago…_**  
  
_When Zayn walks to “their spot” (the shade underneath one of the oak trees by the bike shack) for lunch on Monday, Harry’s noticeably absent and Louis has his arms wrapped around Liam; Niall’s sitting next to them looking a little lost, one hand resting on Liam’s back as his fingers tap out an unknown rhythm. Niall sees him first and stands up, grabbing him by the arm to walk a few paces further away._  
  
_“What’s going on?”_  
  
_Niall picks at the side of his hair and glances down at his feet, shuffling uncomfortably before he looks back at Zayn. There are tears prickling in the corner of his eyes, and Zayn has a sinking feeling in his stomach._  
  
_“Where’s Harry?” He whispers, eyes focused on where Louis is slowly petting Liam’s head. They’re friends, they all are, but Zayn’s never seen Louis so quiet before, especially around Liam. That’s what leaves him feeling worried more than anything: if Louis’ silent, something’s happened._  
  
_Niall seems to understand the conclusion Zayn jumped to. “Harry’s okay,” he says quickly, placing a hand on Zayn’s upper arm and squeezing slightly. “Well, physically he’s okay.”_  
  
_Zayn’s eyes shoot to Niall and focus on his face, taking in the chapped lips from where he’s clearly been biting them, the rest of his face pale in comparison. He’s fidgeting; even the hand against Zayn is trembling slightly._  
  
_“What does that mean?” Zayn asks desperately when Niall’s been silent for too long._  
  
_The other boy looks down and curses under his breath. “I hate this.” Niall’s talking to himself, but Zayn knows what he means. Out of the five of them, Niall’s always been the most light-hearted; the one to make them laugh if they’re ever feeling down. But there’s not even a hint of a smile on his face, just a tiredness that Zayn didn’t know was possible for Niall to have._  
  
_“Gemma’s dead,” Niall sighs. He runs a hand down his face and pinches the bridge of his nose, grunting in frustration. “There was a car accident on Saturday and she didn’t make it.”_  
  
_Zayn feels the words like a punch, physically recoiling and falling a few steps back against the bike shack. He slides down it slowly until he’s sitting, legs pulled up against his chest and arms folded across his knees. Gemma was always just a figment to him, someone he heard about constantly but never got the chance to meet. He felt like he knew her though with how often Harry talked about her; he knew Gemma was Harry’s best friend. She was the one he went to first with anything._  
  
_“Liam said, uhm,” Niall sighs and sits next to Zayn. He tilts his head and rests it against Zayn’s shoulder, fingers twitching in his lap. “Apparently Harry was in the car too. He’s got a sprained wrist, but otherwise, no injuries.”_  
  
_Zayn nods; he remembers Harry telling him Gemma was going with him to visit his college. They were going to be far away, with Gemma going to school in Boston and Harry slated to start at NYU in the fall. All he can see is Harry’s bright green eyes and a wide smile, remembers how excited Harry was to have one last road trip with his big sister before school starts. Zayn squeezes his eyes shut to get rid of the image._  
  
_At some point, Zayn and Niall go over to join Louis and Liam, the four of them just sitting there together in silence, no one quite sure what to do. They stay like that for the rest of the afternoon, eventually moving so they’re all laying down staring at the sky. Niall leaves for about fifteen minutes to find Uncle Ben so he can have another counselor or instructor take over their groups for them._  
  
_Zayn’s old enough now that he understands loss. He remembers the two names read out during his high school graduation as kids who would’ve been graduating if they hadn’t passed away. They were just names though, removed from him and without faces. Distantly, Zayn knew someone was hurting from it, saw the memorials put up in the hallways outside their lockers. But it never really felt real to him. He knows people die, but Zayn can feel it now. This is different; this is Harry’s sister and Zayn aches for him, aches to have him in his arms to comfort him. There’s something missing from the world now, and Zayn’s aware of it in a way he wishes he wasn’t._  
  
_*_  
  
_They spend a week without Harry, The Arts & Crafts garage stays locked, because instead of being a counselor like the other three, Liam and Harry decided to become instructor’s now that they were old enough, Harry in charge of Arts & Crafts and Liam working as one of the lifeguards._  
  
_It’s a weird week for all of them; there’s someone essential missing and they all feel it. Liam disappears on Thursday and Friday, but Zayn knows he’s staying at the Styles’ house with Harry and going to the funeral. Zayn wants to go, but it’s a small ceremony for close family and friends and he never met Gemma; Zayn doesn’t even know what he’d say to Harry, let alone his parents._  
  
_It’s quiet in a way it shouldn’t be. Zayn has always liked the quiet, the space to be away from everyone for a moment. Sometimes Harry would join him and they wouldn’t say anything for hours, but this isn’t like that. This quiet moves around him almost like it’s trying to suffocate him, and Zayn always goes to find Louis or Niall before it has the chance to succeed._  
  
_*_  
  
_When Zayn gets to work the next week, he takes the long way to meet his group for the start of the day, trusting his Junior Counselor and CIT to watch them until he gets there. The light in the Arts & Crafts garage is on and as he walks closer, he hears the soft shuffle of feet and something heavy fall against a table._  
  
_He raises his hand to knock on the wall to alert Harry of his presence, but he pauses. Harry looks… The same, really. His curls are tied up in a scarf – his latest fashion trend – and he’s humming to himself as he gets his materials ready for the day. His face isn’t pale or sunken in, which was something he expected since Liam looked sick every time Zayn saw him the week before. He watches as Harry moves over to the radio and flicks it on, the dull sound of the latest pop song drifting through. Harry dances a bit too it, hissing as he almost drops a jar of paint on his feet. He leans over to pick it up, and Zayn watches the curve of his spine as he bends, watches the way his t-shirt rides up to show his little love handles and the dimples in his spine, areas Zayn has spent hours cataloguing with his own hands._  
  
_Harry’s eyes widen as he stands up and sees Zayn. He puts the paint on the table and waves his fingers at Zayn. “Shouldn’t you be at the morning line-up?”_  
  
_Zayn wants to point out that Harry is supposed to be there too, but he doesn’t. His arm finally falls down from where it was poised to knock and he rubs at the stubble on his jaw in confusion. This isn’t Harry. Or, it is Harry but not the Harry he was expecting to find. It’s not as though Zayn was expecting to find him in a corner rocking back and forth and crying to himself, but he expected something to show through, but Harry seems perfectly normal, as though he was only away last week for a vacation._  
  
_“See you at lunch?” Harry says and turns his back to continue his work, clearly dismissing Zayn._  
  
_Zayn leaves in a bit of a trance, shaking his head in confusion but he plasters a smile on his face the second he gets to the basketball courts and sees his campers lined-up._  
  
_*_  
  
_Zayn’s silent at lunch. Liam is too, but not in the same way. He looks a little lost but stays stuck to Harry’s side, contributing to the conversation and smiling a little whenever someone makes a joke. If Louis and Niall think something’s weird, they don’t show it. Louis exchanges a brief glance with him as Harry laughs a little too hard at one of Niall’s jokes, but that’s the only sign he gives that something’s off._  
  
_Now that Harry’s really in front of him, Zayn knows this isn’t actually the same Harry that they had two weeks ago. There’s black ink on his left shoulder now, something written in Hebrew that he wouldn’t tell them when Louis asked, no matter how many times Louis kicked him under the table for it. Liam sighed heavily at that, and Zayn has a feeling Liam is the only one to know what the tattoo means._  
  
_It’s Harry’s eyes that really signal to Zayn that something really has changed in him. They’re bright with laughter still, the green almost piercing. He’s doe-eyed still, but there’s a warmth missing there now. Harry always looks at the world like it’s made of magic, eyes dancing at even the sight of one of his favorite flowers. They’re dull now though, and it leaves Zayn feeling cold. Harry’s there but he doesn’t really feel like he is. He wants to ask Liam about it, but he sees the slight frown at the corner of the other boy’s mouth and he knows if anyone would've picked up on Harry’s distance already, it would be Liam._  
  
_*_  
  
_Harry’s eyes don’t change for the rest of the summer. He’s their Harry, laughing and playing with them and pulling pranks. The kids light up around him during Arts & Crafts, and he continues to cover himself in glue and paint to play with them all. He walks around barefoot and barely eats his lunch, instead choosing to steal little pieces of food from each of them instead. Everything else about him is still Harry, but there’s a slight distance to everything he does now. The moves are almost mechanical, cold like his eyes have turned, but every time someone tries to bring it up, tries to ask Harry about Gemma and how he’s doing, he shuts down even further and recoils as though burned._  
  
_Louis asks again three weeks later, on a day where Harry looks a little worn and like he’s about to fall asleep on his feet. It’s lunch and Zayn knows Harry only had one group this morning, which isn't enough to tire any of them out._  
  
_“You okay, Haz?” Louis asks as he walks over to their spot, ruffling Harry’s curls softly. Harry slaps his hand away with a glare and Louis freezes in shock; they all do, even Liam._  
  
_“Harry…” Liam starts to say when it’s been quiet for too long._  
  
_Harry shakes his head and stands up, walking away without a glance at any of them._  
  
_After that there’s a silent agreement among them to not push Harry. Liam tells them Harry will come to them when he needs to; he’ll open up eventually, he promises, it’s just hard right now, especially with trying to help Anne take care of everything around the house._  
  
_They all nod in understanding. Zayn spends the rest of the summer watching Harry through careful eyes, but they’re never alone together. He’s gotten used to Harry is the thing, used to the feeling of Harry’s body against his. It took all of three hours back the first day last year before Harry was pulling Zayn into the backroom of the Arts & Crafts garage and kissing him senseless. It was like they picked up where they had left off the summer before, silently agreeing that this wasn’t anything more than just two boys exploring one another. They spent last summer entirely wrapped around one another, heated kisses and wandering hands pushing and pulling one another constantly. Zayn learned everything about Harry that summer, learned the feeling of his body and the shapes his freckles outlined. He memorized the feeling of Harry’s arms around his and learned that Harry’s neck was the most sensitive spot on his body._  
  
_They’d fallen back together once they returned this summer as well; fell into their old patterns easily. They were off to college in the fall and knew about sex now; it wasn’t like two summers ago or even one summer ago when they were fumbling and trying to figure out how to give a good blowjob or where one another’s prostate was. They knew each other intimately now, but for the rest of the summer Zayn’s cut off from Harry. There’s something unspoken between them now to not continue what they were doing; or maybe it’s that Harry never talks to Zayn or finds time to be alone with him. Zayn tries to remember Liam’s words, that Harry will come to them when he needs too, that things will be okay. It feels empty though; they’re words but there’s nothing behind them._  
  
_Harry never comes to them._

 

* * *

 

The sixth week of camp passes, and Zayn doesn’t know what to do. Harry left that afternoon without a word. A few minutes of nothingness, utter silence, before he gave a slight nod and turned on his heel and left. And now, nothing’s really changed; he still sees Harry at lunch with the other boys and he stops by twice to help him with his groups. Zayn still walks around camp taking pictures of everything. They’re not alone together again, but that was never an everyday thing.

The only thing that’s different is that every time Liam looks at him now, it’s with pity. Zayn wants to smack the look off his face.

Currently, Liam’s looking at him from where he’s sat next to Louis on the floor, their lunches spread out in front of them. Niall and Harry are a bit further away, a deck of cards split between them as they play a few card games. Zayn hears a slap and Niall’s laugh, glancing over to see Harry slowly pulling his hand out from underneath Niall’s and taking the cards with him, a smirk on his face indicating he clearly won that round.

“Do you realize we’ve never exchanged phone numbers?” Zayn says to no one in particular.

It’s something he’s been thinking about ever since Liam mentioned the rare times Harry calls him. Idly, he’s always known that Liam and Harry were the only ones to talk outside of camp, but Zayn doesn’t want that to keep being true. He misses the boys when they’re off at school - he never quite fits with everyone there the way he does with them; and they all live close to each other – either in the city for classes or only a short train ride away.

“It’s our last summer together,” Niall points out, as though Zayn needs a reason to suddenly be wanting their phone numbers. Zayn sees Niall’s features soften and watches a wistful look cloud his eyes. Sometimes he forgets that it’s not just him; that they’re all attached to each other and woven into each other’s lives in some way or another.

“I already have Liam’s number,” Louis says haughtily as though it’s some massive achievement. There’s a smug look on his face, and Zayn doesn’t want to focus on whatever he’s thinking of. They’d told them all earlier in the week that they are now officially dating. Zayn didn’t watch them as they said it though, eyes fixed on Harry, remembering what he'd said about Liam falling in love the first day of camp. He saw the way his jaw clenched and his eyes turned cold; heard the way he didn’t say anything even when Niall and Zayn offered their congratulations even though neither one was surprised. Liam had leaned over to whisper something in Harry’s ear and Zayn had watched as Harry had given him a shaky nod in response, fingers curling around Liam’s wrist and squeezing once before dropping it. It was the only acknowledgment he’d given that he even heard them.

“Zayn’s right.” Niall chucks some rolled up tin foil at Louis’ head and Zayn laughs. “I hate saying bye to you lot when summer’s over.”

Zayn nods in agreement and watches as Louis and Liam do the same. Harry’s suspiciously quiet through it all, avoiding everyone’s gaze as well. Then again, Zayn thinks, maybe it’s not that surprising. He still thinks that they mean more to him than just some stupid summer friendships (and a part of him he’s refusing to acknowledge right now thinks maybe he means more to Harry than just some fuck buddy, even if he was too silent when Zayn stupidly admitted how he felt).

Louis throws his phone onto the floor and it slides forward, hitting Zayn’s ankle. “Put your number in,” he says with a nod toward it. “All of you.”

The next few minutes are a mess of phones shoved in each other’s faces and numbers read out loud. There’s laughter as Louis decides he needs a picture of each of them for their contact info. “Don’t just smile. I don’t want boring people in my phone,” he tells them as he snaps a photo of each of them. Niall dares to ask what the picture Louis uses for Liam is, but the blush running up Liam’s neck answers the question for him. Zayn’s fairly certain that’s the conversation he’d overhead Louis and Liam in earlier that week when Liam was saying, practically whining, “It’s not appropriate for a phone, Lou.”

At some point, Liam disbands from the rest of them and moves over towards Harry. Zayn watches out of his peripheral as they whisper furiously to each other. Liam’s eyes are wide and his hands are waving in front of him, phone clenched tight in his right hand. Harry’s shaking his head a little, and Zayn swears Liam looks like a kicked puppy with how hard his face falls.

“Alright Hazza,” Louis says, seemingly oblivious to the tension between his boyfriend and Harry. Zayn knows better though, can see the little lines of unease at the corners of Louis’ mouth that anyone else would dismiss. “Your turn.”

Harry raises one eyebrow slowly, and it’s almost like he’s challenging Louis – challenging him to ask again.

Louis does, because Louis _always_ meets a challenge.

“Phone number?” He asks again, fingers poised over the new contact button.

“Don’t, Louis,” Zayn says before Harry can answer. Louis turns to look at him, but Zayn’s eyes are focused on Harry. He feels a bit like he’s burning, anger rushing through his veins and he wants to make Harry _hurt._ He wants Harry to ache the way Zayn does; to understand that he can’t just brush away the people that care about him. Zayn’s so tired of this, tired of Harry. All Zayn wants to do is tuck Harry in close and show him he’s loved, but Harry gives absolutely nothing – shows them nothing. And it’s the most frustrating thing Zayn has dealt with. He wants to shake Harry until he understands that he doesn’t get to do this, doesn’t get to treat them like they’re nothing, doesn’t get to sit there and never react or feel anything.

“Harry doesn’t care,” he tries.

No reaction.

“He doesn’t care about us.”

Still no reaction.

“Zayn – “

But that’s Liam, not the person he wants to hear.

“I don’t know that he cares about anything.”

Harry remains stoic as Niall sucks in a breath. “Stop,” he pleads, a hand resting on Zayn’s shoulder and squeezing. “Don’t do this.”

“Zaynie’s got a point,” Louis says quickly, and Zayn doesn’t bother to correct him on using that nickname. _Harry’s_ nickname for him, although it’s been years since he last used it.

“Louis –“ Liam says, but Louis levels a glare at him.

“Stop protecting him!” Louis yells. Zayn bites back a laugh because it looks like Louis is physically restraining himself from stomping his foot like a child.

“You’re a selfish prick, you know that?” Louis’ in front of Harry and Liam now, only a foot of space between them as he stares Harry down. Harry stares back, but his eyes are a dull gray. “Li’s been your best friend since you were four and you treat him like _dirt._ You treat all of us like that really, and yet the three of us” Louis points to himself as well as Niall and Zayn, “have also been friends with you for the past eleven years. Does that mean nothing? Are you such a fucking cold robot that you never feel any emotion?”

Harry doesn’t even flinch as Louis yells in his face and Zayn wonders if Louis’ right; if Harry ever lets himself feel anything nowadays.

Louis tilts his head towards his boyfriend. “How many times have you told me that you hate this, Li?”

Zayn knows the question is really meant for Harry to hear, they all do, but Liam still flinches away from Louis’ words. Harry takes a step forward so he’s in between Liam and Louis, eyes sparking with anger as he stares at Louis. Part of Zayn is surprised because he really thought Harry would just stand there in silence while Louis yelled at him, but the other part of Zayn – the part that reminds him there’s more to Harry than how he presents himself to them now – isn’t surprised at all. Harry cares about them; Zayn knows it deep down, sees the markings of it in black ink across tan skin.

“Shut the hell up, Louis,” he says, voice colder than Zayn ever remembers hearing it. Zayn watches as Liam curls his hand around Harry’s bicep and he knows he’s not the only one who processed the protective edge to the words.

“He speaks!” Louis throws his hands up in the air, ignoring his phone falling out of his hands and to the floor at the action. “Fucking finally.”

“What do you want from me?” Zayn aches at how tired Harry sounds.

“What do I want?” Louis scoffs. “ _We_ want you to stop being a prick to your friends. Especially Liam.”

Liam sighs. “He’s not, Lou.” Zayn thinks this isn’t the first time Liam has had to tell Louis that.

“Stop defending him. You’re always defending him.”

“He’s my best friend.” Liam sounds tired and for the first time, Zayn really thinks about how much this has to affect him. _I lost my best friend when we were eighteen._ The words float around Zayn’s head, a spark of memory from when Liam was talking about Harry earlier that summer. In the back of his mind, the crevices that barely make themselves known, he knew that Harry’s distance didn’t just weigh heavily on his heart. Liam’s biting his lip, eyes wide like they’re trying to implore Louis to listen to him, and Zayn wants to shout at them all; he wants to shout that Harry does care even if he pretends he doesn’t, puts on the air that he doesn’t need attachments or relationships. He wants to shout at Harry that he can't keep pretending like this, can't keep hurting the people who love him.

“I don’t care,” Louis hisses and turns his glare back on Harry, a finger pressed against his chest and Zayn thinks he looks rather stupid like that. “You don’t get to do this to all of us. Your sister died, I get it.” Harry scoffs but Louis doesn’t let that deter him, even if his eyes do widen the slightest bit at the show of emotion. “But that doesn’t give you a free pass. Just because you’ve lost someone and gone through pain doesn’t give you the right to hurt others. Grow up, Harry. Bad things happen, but you don’t get to take your pain out on other people. You don’t get to inflict that on us. We’re here for you, we always have been if you’d just open your fucking eyes, but your pain doesn’t excuse what a shitty friend you’ve been over the years. It’s not fair to the people who love you.”

“I never asked for anyone to love me!” Harry shouts, and Louis stumbles backwards in shock.

They all stand frozen at that, the words echoing throughout the room and bouncing back to hit each of them with a force. Zayn watches as Liam’s face drops and he blinks fast, quickly rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. Niall’s mouth is open the slightest amount as though he wants to say something but doesn’t know what. Louis’ just staring, but he looks far more subdued than before, as though Harry has punched every last inch of fight out of him.

Harry walks out of the room without another word, the slam of the door behind him causing Zayn to flinch. Liam sighs and rolls his shoulders, glancing around the room at all of them.

“I should…” He gestures towards the door but he doesn’t move towards it, instead stares at it as though willing Harry to walk right back through. His eyes are red rimmed and Louis shakes his head, breaking out of his shock, and quickly wraps his arms around Liam to pull him close.

“I’ll go,” Zayn says. No one has to go after Harry, and Zayn can’t be entirely sure that was what Liam was intending to do, but he can’t leave it like that. He walks out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them, and makes his way towards the Arts & Crafts garage. If Harry’s not there he’ll check the Gym, and then the river, and then anywhere else on camp Harry would possibly think to hide.

Zayn heard the edge of pain in Harry’s voice when he yelled at Louis. He knows Harry was telling them to stop – to stop pushing him or loving him or being his friend or anything of the sort. The problem is, none of them are going to listen, especially not Zayn. Harry’s etched his way into all of their lives whether he wanted that to happen or not, and Zayn doesn’t think any of them are particularly good at letting go.

The garage door is closed but Zayn tries the side entrance; the doorknob gives and he pushes the door open. No one’s in the main room, but there’s a soft light coming from the back and Zayn sees shadows moving across the open doorway. There’s no music playing, which is unusual for Harry. Zayn can count on one hand the number of times he’s come into the Arts & Crafts garage without music playing, and two of those are because Harry wasn’t even there when he came looking for him.

Walking into the back room, he sees Harry bent over the table, fingers furiously scribbling over a sketchbook. Zayn arches his neck to take a look; he sees the edges of what looks like leaves before the book is slammed shut and Harry spins in his chair to stare at him.

“What do you want, Z?”

He expects the words to be hard, cold, even shouted at him, but they’re soft. The picture sitting on the computer in his room flashes before his eyes; Harry looks worn down again, tired in a way Zayn doesn’t know how to fix even if he wants to try everything in his power to help.

Zayn pulls out one of the few chairs in the back, both of them flinching as it scrapes loudly against the floor. He sits down across from Harry so their knees are pressed together, reaching one of his hands out to rest on Harry’s thigh. He squeezes softly.

Harry’s hair is falling in front of his face and Zayn tucks his curls back behind his ears with his other hand, smiling sadly at the doe eyed look Harry gives him when he leans back.

“I don’t know what to do about you,” he admits, getting only a confused look in response. “It’s hard not to shower you in kisses and flowers and fucking chocolates or whatever other dumb romantic thing, y’know?”

Harry shakes his head; Zayn tries to school his expression into neutrality and not let his shock shine through. He doesn’t want to scare Harry off, knows how delicate having his attention is, especially when his face is open. Maybe part of him is still closed off, Zayn doesn’t know that it ever won’t be, but for right now, he seems to not be actively blocking his emotions, and Zayn can’t take a chance at ruining it by addressing it. So he squeezes Harry’s knee one more time before relaxing into his chair further and talks.

“Do you remember those friendship bracelets you gave the four of us?” Zayn doesn’t wait for Harry to answer before he continues. “I still have mine. It’s sitting in the drawer of my desk in my room at home. It doesn’t fit anymore, but I haven’t thrown it out.”

“You should,” Harry interrupts.

“I shouldn’t.”

“It was stupid,” he insists.

“Why?”

“It was just something stupid I made in here once. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Zayn knows it’s a lie, and he thinks Harry knows that too otherwise he wouldn’t be avoiding his gaze right now. His eyes trail over the tattoos littering Harry’s skin, taking in the careful detail of the anchor and rose. His tattoos are haphazard, some of them almost seeming completely pointless. He thinks that’s how Harry wants it to seem, maybe even what he tries to convince himself, but Zayn doesn’t believe it. One or two might be pointless or drunken mistakes or done on a whim, but there’s care to some of them – most of them actually.

“You have roots.”

“What?”

“That anchor, it’s for Liam right?”

Harry stays silent.

“And the comic masks, they’re for Louis. The badly drawn guitar is for Niall. And the black heart, is that for me? Because I have it’s twin on my hip and you traced it that summer when we were eighteen – before Gemma. In the back room of the Gym, you spent a few minutes tracing it with your tongue.”

Zayn bites his lip, thinking hard before he decides to just fuck it. He moves out of his chair and sits down in Harry’s lap instead, legs on either side of his and Harry’s hands automatically move to his waist to steady him. He rests their foreheads together and cups Harry’s cheek, making the other boy look at him whether he wants to or not.

“You’re attached to us.”

Harry’s eyes flutter closed and he let’s out a shaky breath. Hands tighten on Zayn’s hip and he holds back the moan that would normally pull from him. This isn’t about that, not right now. This is about getting Harry to finally realize that what he’s so scared of has already happened.

“I know it scares you. I don't know why, but I know it does,” Zayn says, voice barely above a whisper. His lips graze lightly against Harry's, and Harry sucks in a slow breath. “Putting down roots, letting yourself grow attached. But it’s okay.”

Their lips are only millimeters apart now and Zayn closes the distance. It’s not a hard kiss by any means or filled with burning desire or passion like their kisses usually are. This one is soft, Zayn’s hands still cupping Harry’s cheeks to hold him close as he tries to pour everything he feels into this one kiss.

For a second, Harry kisses back just as gently and it’s perfect.

But then the kiss breaks and Zayn finds himself falling onto his ass on the floor, eyes wide as he stares up at Harry who is now pacing the room with his hands tugging at his curls. Zayn stands up quickly and steps towards him again, but Harry jerks back the second Zayn’s fingers graze his arm. A glass falls and shatters, paint water spilling onto the floor but neither of them pay it any mind.

“Please leave.”

Zayn almost misses the words with how quietly they’re murmured.

“Why are you so scared?” He thinks he might know, but he needs Harry to talk to him.

“Leave, Zayn.”

“Why can’t you let me love you?” Zayn asks and even he hears the desperation in his voice, wishes it wasn’t there but he can’t pull it back in now. “That’s all I want to do Harry. That’s all any of us want to do.”

Harry turns his back to him and sighs. “I don’t want you to.”

“That’s bullshit,” Zayn spits, rolling his shoulders as though preparing for a fight. He sees the way Harry’s straightening his back, the muscles tightening and when he turns around his eyes are closed off again, a dull green that saddens him, and his arms are crossed like a shield to protect him. “Whether you like it or not, whether you wanted it to happen or not, the evidence that we _matter_ to you is inked all over your body.”

“They’re just tattoos,” Harry says and waves his hand in dismissal of Zayn’s comment that they’re anything more. “They don’t mean anything.”

“They’re permanent! You put them on your body forever,” Zayn shouts at him. “You can’t tell me that doesn’t mean anything.”

Harry stares at him, eyes narrowing into a glare. “Leave, Zayn.”

He stays rooted to the spot, arms crossed and a defiant tint to his eyes. Harry opens his mouth, but shuts it just as quickly. It happens a few more times, but ultimately he never says anything. He snatches the sketchbook off the table and shoulders past Zayn, leaving the Arts & Crafts garage.

Zayn stares after him. Part of him is tempted to follow him, to continue to push until Harry listens, but he knows that won’t work today. Harry’s shut himself down again, and he doesn’t think anything he could say right now will change that. 

 

* * *

 

**_two years ago…_**  
  
_Zayn pauses on his way to his car and peeks his head through the Arts & Crafts garage. The garage door is closed since it’s the end of the camp day, but the side door is open a bit. His eyes widen a little to see paint bottles turned every which way and brushes scatted around. There’s glitter on the floor and on Harry’s body, along with ribbon unraveled and lining the floor. It looks like a twister came through._  
  
_“Courtesy of Louis,” Harry says when he sees him, opening his arms wide and gesturing to the space. “Hornets were my last group today.”_  
  
_Zayn nods in understanding. The miniature Louis’, as all the boys have taken to calling them. They’re sweet kids, but everyone is happy not to be their camp counselor this year. One of them by themselves is okay, but together they like to make trouble. It’s never anything too bad, but after three weeks of pranks and messes already, they’re all wary for the last five weeks of the summer. The reason Harry’s space is a barrage of paint and supplies is probably more Louis’ fault than any of his campers’._  
  
_Zayn steps further inside and closes the door behind him, silencing the sound of campers talking loudly on their way to the pick-up area so it’s just him and Harry. He’s acutely aware of the fact that this is the first time he’s been alone with Harry this summer; the first time he’s been alone with him really since Gemma passed away. Harry still doesn’t talk about it, instead spends his time telling them about living in the city and his friends. Zayn wonders if anyone else notices that in every story, Harry is talking about a different group of people, almost like he flies from friend to friend without ever really growing attached._  
  
_“Help me clean up?” Harry asks as he looks at him, eyes wide and innocent but Zayn can see the hint of a smirk in them. He shrugs and lets his bag slide off his shoulders, knowing he would be helping Harry even if he didn’t ask; saying no to Harry Styles would be like saying no to the world. Zayn doesn’t think he ever could._

_He follows Harry into the backroom and grabs a bucket. There’s paint splattered on the sides and Harry’s name scribbled at the top by the rim. Zayn chuckles to himself at the “Please don’t take! xx,” wondering when Harry wrote it._

_Music starts to filter through the room and they work in relative quiet for the first ten minutes, trading off verses to each of the songs and wiping the paint off the tables. Zayn thinks they’re getting absolutely nowhere, especially since most of the paint is dried already. He doesn’t mind though, and neither does Harry if the soft look on his face is anything to go off of. It’s been a while since he’s seen him look so relaxed and peaceful; he’s not going to disturb it now by pointing out that Harry forgot to put soap in his water so he’s doing an even worse job than Zayn of getting everything clean._

_There’s errant brushes thrown across the room and Zayn takes a few in his hand, intent to go to the back room and wash them off in the sink but one glance at Harry changes his mind. There’s an open can of red paint sitting behind Harry, and instead of cleaning the brushes, Zayn chooses one and dips it into the paint, dabbing Harry’s cheek with a soft laugh._

_Harry turns to Zayn with wide eyes, a look of shock in his face but it quickly morphs into a smirk. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” He breathes._

_Harry straightens and crowds Zayn’s space, their chests pressed together and lips millimeters apart. Zayn can feel Harry’s breath against his bottom lip and goose bumps break out over his arms. His eyes flutter closed but suddenly there’s something wet on his nose and his eyes shoot open to see Harry smiling wide in front of him, dimples pressed deep into his cheeks and a paintbrush dripping blue paint held in his hand._

_Zayn tucks his hand behind him and dips it into the can of red paint that the brush he used earlier is still sitting in. He wipes his hand across Harry’s cheek, leaving a trail of red in the thin shape of his fingers. Expecting Harry to strike back, Zayn’s already reached back again to grab the paintbrush, but Harry’s frozen in front of him instead, a soft look on his face, lines smoothed out and lips slightly parted, that Zayn melts into. It’s been ages since he’s seen Harry relax like this, a glint in his eyes instead of the coldness he’s grown used to over the past few years. Part of him wishes he had his camera to capture the moment, to capture this Harry, forever._

_His eyes drift down across the tank top Harry’s wearing, focusing in on the tattoos that litter his body now. Zayn has a few of his own, but Harry seems to collect them the way he talks about his friends as collections. There are sparrows on his chest and three random nails on his arm. The black heart is what grabs Zayn’s attention, it has since the moment he saw it at the beginning of the summer. There’s something enticing about it and Zayn wants to ask Harry the meaning behind it but he settles for something else instead._

_Delicately, because that’s the only way Zayn knows how to handle Harry even if Harry handles him with rough hands and bruised lips, Zayn traces the paintbrush over the edges of Harry’s tattoo. A spark of red around the bleakness of the black heart._

_He can feel Harry’s eyes watching him as he carefully outlines the heart, but Zayn doesn’t dare look up, doesn’t dare disturb the delicate air surrounding them. He colors in the rest of the heart, pressing a slight kiss to the soft skin above it._

_Zayn wants to push the color back into Harry’s life._

_He hears Harry suck in a harsh breath above him and glances up at him, lips still pressed against his warm skin. He traces the three nails next to the heart with his tongue, smiling when Harry shivers against him._

_“Zayn.”_

_Harry’s fingers press against his chin and Zayn lets Harry lift his head up so they’re looking at each other. He holds Harry’s gaze, trying to let Harry know that Zayn is here, if he would just let him be. There’s a slight twitch to Harry’s lips as he leans closer, continuing to tilt Zayn’s head up as he presses their mouths together in a kiss. It’s as Zayn starts to relax against Harry and push into the kiss that he feels something wet in his hair, pulling back with wide eyes to see Harry’s hand covered in blue paint next to him. The sound of his laughter filters through the room and Zayn reaches up to touch his hair, his own hand now covered in blue paint when he pulls it away._

_“My hair? Really, Haz?” He scolds but there’s no heat behind the words. Harry just shrugs and ducks around the other side of the table before Zayn can say anything else. There’s an unspoken challenge between them and Zayn grabs the open can of red paint and throws the contents at Harry, smirking when it splatters across his face and over his t-shirt._

_The next twenty minutes are spent like that, cans of paint thrown at each other, hands wiping across one another’s skin and leaving a trail, brushes dipped in several colors of paint press against cheeks and the backs of necks. At some point Harry pushes Zayn up against the door and strips his shirt off, fingers tracing along the lines of his muscles and leaving an outline of green paint. Zayn returns the favor not much later, practically tearing Harry’s shirt away and flicking splatters of paint across his stomach, smiling as it makes the butterfly he’d yet to notice before turn purple._

_Harry laughs and Zayn wants to wrap himself in the sound and wear it around him like a blanket._

_He yelps as water is thrown over his head, shaking his hair out and reaching blindly for a towel hanging on one of the hooks to wipe his eyes. When he opens them it’s to see Harry on the other side of the room with an empty bucket in his hands and a twinkle in his eye. The garage is a mess, paint splattered over the walls and the tables, the windows looking like they're in the early stages of a Picasso painting._

_“You made a mess.” Harry pushes his lips out in a pout, but the tease in his voice says otherwise._

_Zayn closes his eyes and breathes, taking a second to catalogue the softness in Harry’s face; the frown lines that have become so familiar washing away, if only for a moment._

_“You poured water on me,” Zayn says once he opens his eyes._

_“You painted my tattoo.”_

_“You colored my hair.”_

_They stare at one another, no heat behind either of their words but suddenly Zayn feels warmth creeping down his neck. He’s still as Harry moves towards him, the empty bucket placed on the table as he encroaches in Zayn’s space. Taking a step back, Zayn finds himself pressed against the wall with Harry’s chest brushing against his. His cock stirs in his jeans as he feels the press of Harry’s fingers against his spine, kneading the muscles there and almost certainly leaving a trail of paint behind._

_“I didn’t lock the door,” Zayn whispers against Harry’s mouth._

_“Don’t care,” Harry mumbles, and then Zayn’s not worried about anything else except for the feel of Harry’s mouth against his own. He tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair, undoubtedly coloring it with paint much like his own. Harry lets out a low moan when Zayn tugs particularly hard and Zayn swallows the sound, pressing forward. Tight hands grasp Harry’s hips and he spins them around, pushing him against the wall with a harshness Harry typically embodies._

_He nips at the skin of Harry’s neck, trailing kisses down the few paintless patches of skin, flicking open the button of his jean shorts quickly. Zayn falls to his knees and tugs Harry’s pants and underwear down with him, groaning as Harry’s hard cock bounces against his stomach._

_“Fuck my mouth,” Zayn whispers as he glances up at Harry from where he’s on his knees. Harry’s eyes grow dark and a slight growl escapes from him. His hands snake over Zayn’s neck to tug him closer and his mouth falls open easily. He licks at the precome on the head of Harry’s cock, circling his tongue there slowly before he takes Harry in fully._

_Relaxing his throat, Zayn lets his eyes slip closed as he curls his hands around Harry’s hips, two fingers tapping against his hipbone to let him know it’s okay. He moans at the slight pain as Harry tugs at his hair to pull him closer and he feels the slight shake in Harry’s legs._

_Tears prick at the sides of Zayn’s eyes as Harry fucks his mouth, starting slow to allow him to adjust before picking up the pace. Zayn sucks him harder, fingernails digging into Harry’s hips in a way he knows will leave bruises when they’re done. His own cock is straining against his shorts, hard and aching for Harry to touch him but Zayn focuses on the heavy weight of Harry against his tongue instead._

_“Feels so good,” Harry mumbles. “Fuck, Z.” Harry thrusts harder and Zayn gags a little before relaxing his throat. “God you just fucking take it.” Harry punctuates each word with a thrust and then he’s coming hard down Zayn’s throat. Zayn moans at the taste of Harry and swallows around him easily. He swipes his thumb across his bottom lip as he pulls off, glancing up at Harry with hooded eyes._

_Harry slides down the wall onto his knees so he’s level with Zayn and kisses him. Zayn opens his mouth at the press of Harry’s tongue, allowing him to taste himself. He gasps against him when Harry’s hand curls around his cock, too out of it to have even realized that Harry at some point pulled his shorts down. Zayn comes embarrassingly fast, the heat already simmering in his stomach from having Harry fuck his mouth._

_“Harry.” His name tumbles out of Zayn’s mouth as he comes, tucking his face in against Harry’s neck and biting his shoulder hard to keep from moaning too loudly. A small part of him also likes the idea of Harry wearing his marks, likes the idea of seeing them on Harry and letting everyone know that Harry’s his._

_They stay like that for a few minutes, on their knees and wrapped together, breaths coming out in harsh pants._

_“This is going to be a bitch to clean up tomorrow,” Harry sighs, but when Zayn takes his head out from where it was still hidden against Harry’s neck, he sees nothing even remotely close to regret on Harry’s face._

 

* * *

 

Louis texts him that weekend and half an hour later, he hears a knock at the front door. He doesn’t move from where he’s lying on the bed, a book propped open on his stomach that he hasn’t actually looked at in the last hour. His mom lets Louis in and she laughs a little at whatever Louis said to charm her. It’s only a few seconds later that he hears footsteps on the stairs, followed by his bedroom door banging open.

“Honey, I’m home.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and throws the book he wasn’t reading at Louis. It misses and bounces off the wall instead. Louis _tsks_ disapprovingly at him and kicks the door closed, toeing off his shoes before climbing onto the bed with Zayn and wrapping around him like an octopus.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend for this?” Zayn asks, but there’s no heat behind the words. He slides down the bed and rolls onto his side, burying his head against Louis’ chest in the soft material of his sweatshirt. And why Louis is wearing a sweatshirt in August, he doesn’t know, but he find he’s thankful for the soft fabric at that moment. Louis’ arms wrap around his shoulders and he tangles their legs together. If his parents or sisters walked into the room right now, Zayn knows he’d be answering a million questions. He doesn’t think about that though, because it’s Louis and he’ll start laughing far too hard if he ruminates on the idea of being in a relationship with him for too long.

“Liam says Harry won’t talk to him,” Louis says into the silence. He cards his fingers through Zayn’s hair. Zayn leans into the touch easily, but it’s not right. There are no soft nails scratching at his scalp or thumb brushing over the shaved sides and making him shiver. It’s not bad; Louis’ gentle with him, but it’s not the hands he wants. Still, he closes his eyes and tries to relax into it.

Enough time passes that he thinks Louis may let him get away with not answering, but he should’ve known better.

“Know anything about that?”

Zayn sighs and buries his face further into Louis’ chest. “I think I scared him.”

“How so?”

Closing his eyes and wrapping himself tighter around Louis, Zayn tells him everything. He tells him about their first kiss and their first time, tells him about how he fell in love without truly realizing it until a year ago, tells him about how Harry’s always been against relationships even before Gemma, tells him about his confusion over Harry, tells him everything that’s happened and then he finally tells him about the other day and what happened in the Arts & Crafts garage when he followed Harry out.

Louis’ quiet for a while, and when Zayn chances a glance up at him his face is pinched and his eyebrows are pulled together. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” he admits. “I’ve been wondering about you two for _years_ now.”

“Well, you were right.”

Louis hums under his breath a little. “You love him more than anything, don’t you?”

Zayn nods.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says, and Zayn doesn’t need to ask what he means.

He’s a bit unnerved by this soft side of Louis. He wants to tell him to pinch his nipples or tell a dumb joke or ask him to help pull a prank on his sisters that Louis will think is hilarious but will just make everyone else groan.

“Tell me about, Liam,” he requests instead. They both know it’s a diversion, but Louis lets him get away with it and Zayn spends the next hour learning far more than he ever needed to know about Liam and Louis’ relationship with him.

*

The second to last week of camp passes by in a blur. Harry isn’t there on Monday or Tuesday, but when he returns for the rest of the week, he doesn’t come near Zayn. In fact, he stays away from Louis and Niall too. Liam disappears during lunch on Thursday, but other than that, Harry seems to be avoiding him as well.

When the weekend comes it finds Zayn sitting in his bedroom again, this time with Liam sitting across from him. Their legs are crossed and Liam’s telling him about how he’s going to be an RA in one of the sophomore dorms in the fall semester. Zayn thinks it sounds like a shit job, but Liam says it’s an easy enough job and it means he’ll have his own dorm room. An apartment still sounds like a better living arrangement to him, but he knows Louis will help Liam take full advantage of having a single.

“Did you know I was Harry’s only friend in high school?” Liam asks a little while later, and Zayn can’t say he’s surprised that their conversation eventually drifted there. “Well, his only close friend.”

Liam’s looking down at his hands where they’re resting in his lap, fingers tangling together and then untangling, clearly a nervous tick. He doesn’t say anything; it’s obvious Liam isn’t done.

“I used to think it was because of his parents’ divorce, and then when Gemma died, that just amplified everything. But lately I think it’s always been this way. We’ve been friends since pre-school, you know that. But even back when we went to elementary school, I was the only one he stayed friends with between grades, sometimes between months. I think Harry was always just interested in people, they fascinate him for a moment but keeping his attention is hard and he never grew too attached. I don’t know if he made that a conscious choice at six, but he’s always been scared." 

Liam falls silent for a moment, rubbing at the back of his neck. “He’s scared to let people in, Zayn. His dad leaving, even though he still sees him all the time, and Gemma dying didn’t help that.”

“He already has, though.”

“Oh, I know.” Liam laughs but there’s no humor behind it. “He does too, and I think that scares him even more.”

His phone buzzes twice on the table, but he ignores it. Louis had been texting him stupid shit all day about stealing his boyfriend. Moving off the bed, Zayn walks over to his desk and pulls open the bottom drawer to grab his camera. His dad gave it to him when he was a sophomore and officially declared his photography focus, told him to be sure to use it to capture the world (and also to not break it). He flicks through his photos until he finds the one he wants, holding it out to Liam. It’s from the day Harry was working with the group of four-year-old girls; he’s got a line of paint on his neck and in his hair and he’s sitting on the table, hands blurred a little from where he’d been moving when Zayn captured the picture, his mouth open as he tells a story.

“Does Harry know you were taking pictures of him?”

Zayn shakes his head and clicks a few more buttons until the camera lands on the picture from a few minutes later, the one where Harry is staring out at his garage looking worn to the bone. Liam touches the camera screen slowly, a deep frown on his face.

“Sometimes, I think this is the only Harry in there anymore.”

“It’s not.”

Liam turns the camera off and holds it out for Zayn to take back. “I know.”

Zayn puts the camera back in his desk drawer and climbs onto the bed, this time sitting next to Liam so their arms are pressed together. He glances at the few tattoos Liam has, far less than Zayn and Harry – and Louis as well. He pulls Liam’s arm across his lap and traces the lines of the feather on his forearm slowly.

“How often do you hear from Harry during the year?”

Liam takes his arm back once Zayn’s done tracing over the feather once. He rests his elbows on his knees and puts his chin on top of hands where they’re folded together in the air.

“Plenty,” he says. “The last time Harry called me though was about eight months ago. I hadn’t been into the city for a while and he asked if I was coming down that weekend, said he wanted to get a tattoo.”

Zayn thinks about all of Harry’s tattoos, but there are only a few that were new to him this summer.

“I wasn’t planning to visit, but when Harry calls, I kind of drop everything else. It’s rare he calls me, but he always does if it’s been close to two months and we haven't talked. I think he wants to believe he doesn’t need me, tries to convince himself of it even.”

Liam doesn’t seem upset by that thought since there’s a smile on his face, but Zayn’s not sure he understands how that can work, how Liam manages to care so deeply for Harry but only gets scraps of affection in return.

“And that weekend I went with him and he got the anchor tattooed.”

“You know that one’s for you, right?” Zayn blurts out. His eyes widen as he processes what he said and he bites his lip. Harry never actually confirmed that, never confirmed any of his theories about his tattoos, and even though Zayn thinks he’s right, he doesn’t want Liam to believe him and Harry to later tell them both how wrong they were.

“I know,” Liam says and it breaks Zayn out of his inner worry, replacing him with confusion instead. A soft laugh permeates the room and Zayn glances over to see Liam watching him with a fond look in his eyes, a slight smirk on his lips.

“I know Harry, Z. Of course I know why he wanted an anchor and called me to come with him even though I've only gone with him once before,” Liam rolls his eyes like it should’ve been obvious. And maybe it should be, but Zayn’s been too focused on how much distance Harry keeps between himself and anyone who dares to try to get close. He forgets sometimes that Liam and Harry grew up together; they all did really, but it was different. Liam seems to know Harry better than Harry knows himself somedays, and Zayn wishes there was something in that to help Harry realize it’s okay.

“I know what all of his tattoos are for, although he’s only actually explained about half of them,” Liam adds a beat later. “Just like I’m sure he knows the meanings behind my tattoos, even if I’ve never told him why I wanted all of them.”

“It doesn’t bother you? Harry acting like he doesn’t care only to turn around and get something so permanent?” Zayn wonders aloud.

Liam looks at him as though it’s the most incredulous question. He shakes his head once he realizes Zayn was serious.

“Zayn, why do you think I’ve stuck around even though Harry’s been pushing me away for years?”

Zayn shrugs, but he feels like he should know the answer, like it’s obvious.

“I know how much I matter to him even if he won’t admit it to himself most days. And sure, it really hurts somedays and sometimes I just want to drop him as a friend forever, because he’s ultimately not a very good one as of late. But I can’t do that, won’t do that. Even if he won’t admit it, I know what I mean to him and that he needs me.”

Zayn doesn’t know how Liam does it, stands right there with Harry even when most people would’ve left a long time ago.

“But you always look torn up about him.”

“I never said it was easy, Z.”

There’s a loud crash from the kitchen and the sound of glass breaking. _Looks like take-out for dinner,_ he thinks. Liam’s not looking at him anymore, head turned towards the door, no doubt in response to the crash.

“You remember when Louis and I told you guys we were together?”

Zayn nods, eyes glazing over with the memory of their smiling faces juxtaposed against Harry’s stiffness. “Yeah.”

Liam chuckles a little, and Zayn tilts his head in confusion. “You wondered why Harry was so closed off, almost cold, about his friend’s happiness, right?”

Zayn tries to make his shrug seem nonchalant, but he knows it failed.

“It crossed my mind.”

Liam rubs the back of his neck for a moment. “He’s trying to protect me.”

Zayn gives Liam an incredulous look, doubt clearly written on his face. Liam holds up a defensive hand and shakes his head.

“He is,” Liam insists, and it sounds tired – like an argument he’s had before. Zayn thinks about how protective Louis is about Liam, the way he’d yelled at Harry when he thought Harry was hurting Liam and being a terrible friend. Maybe he’s not the only one Liam’s had to explain this too.

“I’m not – it’s Harry’s reasoning to explain, really. But, he’s trying to keep me from getting hurt.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you that he doesn’t support you?”

Liam smiles and it looks a little sad, his eyes a dull brown and his lips turn downwards in a frown a second later.

“It’s a double-edged sword.”

Zayn waits for Liam to explain further, but he doesn’t.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Zayn finally asks in exasperation.

Liam bites his lip and pinches the bridge of his nose. Zayn’s not sure what he’s going to say now, but Liam looks how Zayn’s insides feel at the moment, sick with nerves. 

“I just don’t want you to give up on him.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows in surprise. “A few weeks ago you were telling me to stay away from him.”

“Things change.” Liam shrugs and stands up, spinning around the room and looking for his shoes. Zayn glances at the clock and sees that it’s nearly dinnertime. He’d invite Liam to stay, but Liam mentioned that his sisters are home for the weekend, so Zayn couldn’t fault him for wanting to leave and get home.

“And be careful with him,” Liam throws over his shoulder when he leaves five minutes later.

*

The camp out night starts with being one of the hottest days of the year, but when the campers sit down for dinner and then move onto setting up their tents, a few drops of rain start to fall. Zayn glances up at the sky from where he’s sitting with Louis and his group. Not all the instructors have to stay over night, but they always ask for at least ten volunteers to help out. Since it’s his last summer here, he decided to be one of those volunteers and stay the night, but now that there are shrill shrieks from the campers and rain falling harder each second, he thinks maybe he should’ve said no.

It’s the second year in a row it’s rained on the camp out night.

There’s a mad scramble to close pizza boxes and cap the bottles of juice. Counselors run with their campers to where their tents are set up to grab their belongings, the tents left to fend for themselves for the night. Some of the groups are relegated up to the Gym, others are sent to the Game Room, and then anyone left is sent to the other side of camp to the building where Zayn’s music room is. There are eight rooms in the building, including Zayn’s, and all of them get filled – two groups per room.

Zayn leads Louis and his group to his room, Niall’s group filing in behind them. He decides not to question how those two got paired together – since each group is assigned a place to go beforehand in case it rains – or why Liam and Harry are already sitting in the room when he opens the door. Their heads shoot up and Liam has the decency to look a little sheepish, but Harry just stares past them to the outside.

“It’s raining,” he says as though he’s surprised by it. Zayn avoids pointing out the large window in the room and the sounds of rain pelting the rooftop that were a clear indication that it is, in fact, raining.

Niall pushes Zayn into the room since he paused in the doorway, his campers following in behind him along with Louis and his group. From there, it’s another scramble of kids spreading out sleeping bags and shouting about who they simply _have_ to sleep next to and towels thrown at one another as they all change their clothes into something dry. Zayn switches the TV on and holds up a few movies, waiting for the kids to settle down so they can vote on which one. Once they’ve decided, he puts the movie in and the campers all relax into their sleeping bags. He knows they’ll only last through one movie, if they’re lucky, before they get bored, but Zayn’s sure they’ll find a way to entertain themselves. Normally they’d have the counselor fashion show – where each group dresses their counselor up – and then each group would do their performance down the hill at the stage, but when it rains on sleepover night, everything turns into just a massive pile of camper’s squished into a room together and playing odd games and watching movies.

“You two staying here then?” Zayn asks Liam and Harry once things have calmed. Louis and Niall are squeezed on the floor with their campers who decided it was an excellent idea to throw themselves all over their counselors and trap them there to watch _A Bug’s Life._

Liam nods. “Might as well. Neither of us have gotten called to help in any of the other rooms, so it seems like things are okay for us to stay.”

“The five of us together for camp out night again.” Niall laughs from underneath a pile of arms.

Harry leans over, whispers something in Liam’s ear, and then the door to the music room opens and closes and he disappears. Zayn stares after him, and he sees Liam shoot a glare over his shoulder for some reason, most likely at Louis.

“You should follow him,” Liam says as he turns back to him, face soft again and eyes warm. How anyone manages to ever say no to him, Zayn will never understand. It’s simply pure confusion at this point that keeps him rooted to the spot. He wants to follow Harry, but it’s been another week at this point without them talking and he really doesn’t know what to say or where Harry’s gone.

Liam opens the door and pushes at his back. “Go,” he emphasizes, and suddenly Zayn finds himself outside in the rain, the little awning over the building the only thing stopping him from getting soaked through to the bone.

As it turns out, Harry’s only a few doors down. He’s standing at the edge of the building, leaning against it with one leg kicked up and his arms crossed. When he moves closer, Zayn sees that his eyes are closed and he seems to be consciously making himself breathe deeply.

“Hi,” Zayn murmurs, smiling sheepishly when Harry jumps at the voice, his foot falling down and eyes opening wide. “Liam told me to come find you.”

“Liam says a lot of things.”

Harry doesn’t offer anything else, and Zayn moves so he’s leaning against the wall next to him. He pulls a packet of cigarettes and his lighter out, shaking them a little with a glance at Harry. “You mind?” he asks, and Harry shakes his head. Zayn pulls one out and lights it, taking a deep drag and blowing the smoke out slowly. He hears Harry take a deep breath, eyes flicking to the side to see that Harry’s closed his own again. Neither of them says anything as Zayn smokes.

When the cigarette’s done and Zayn’s crushed it underneath his foot, Harry finally says something.

“Are you really in love with me?”

He shifts his body so they’re facing one another and opens his eyes. They’re wide and unsure, and Zayn thinks that they look a little desperate as well, as though begging him to deny it. Something else flickers across Harry’s face, but it’s gone too fast for Zayn to put a name to it.

“Yes,” Zayn says, knowing there’s no point in denying it. And he doesn’t want to deny it either.

Harry stares at him, eyes flicking back and forth and Zayn turns to him fully, lets him search his face for whatever it is he needs to find. Thunder cracks in the background and the rain picks up. It sprays him lightly from the force of it; bouncing off the building and the tip of the awning, but mostly he stays dry. He listens to it though, focuses on the sound of it against the pavement of the parking lot and the roof of the building.

Harry nods and turns back to stare at nothing. Zayn wants to ask if he found what he was looking for, but another question bubbles over the surface instead.

“Are you in love with me?”

Zayn snaps his mouth closed once the question’s out, but it’s too late. It’s out there now for both of them to worry about and he can’t take it back. He sees Harry’s eyes widen the slightest and he pushes off from the wall, shoulders rigid. Tension exudes from him everywhere, and if he’s thinking of a way to turn Zayn down, Zayn would rather he just say it outright.

“Liam says I am,” Harry says and his voice sounds far off, like he’s thinking about something else when he answers and even his eyes are a bit out of focus when Zayn steps towards him. Harry doesn’t step back, and Zayn grounds him with fingers on his hip, touching the fabric of his shirt so gently that Harry could easily not feel it.

“You’re allowed to be,” he reminds Harry.

“No,” Harry says quickly, and his eyes focus in on Zayn and they’re burning. There’s a fire in them now, but it’s not the kind Zayn wants. It’s not passion or love or desire or want; it’s anger. “You don’t get it, Zayn. You never fucking get it.”

Zayn shrugs, but the flippant move only seems to frustrate Harry more. “Explain it to me, then.”

“I’m not supposed to fall in love with you!” Harry shouts. “I never wanted this.”

Zayn steps back and his hand falls from where it was still pressed to Harry’s hip. He crosses his arms and levels Harry with a glare, his own anger starting to boil underneath the surface.

“Why did you want your first kiss to be with me then?” He asks. “Why did you want your first time to be with me?”

Harry shakes his head, but Zayn pushes forward. 

“You didn’t want to fall in love with me? Too fucking bad. I didn’t want to fall in love with you either, and yet here we are. And you can’t blame me for this, Harry. You’re the one who always pushed our relationship; you’ve always been the one to come to me. You started this in the first place, so why are you so intent on denying it?”

Harry’s still shaking his head. He’s not looking at Zayn though; instead, his gaze is trained at the ground.

“Why can’t you admit that maybe, at some point, I fell in love with you and you fell in love with me too?”

“Because I didn’t!” Harry denies quickly, but it sounds like a lie to both of them.

Harry steps back and out from under the awning, the rain soaking him within seconds but he continues to walk backwards and away from Zayn. He shouldn’t, but Zayn follows him out into the rain, ignoring the way his clothes are now sticking to him as he pushes the hair back out of his eyes and squints against the water.

“Stop running away from this!” Zayn shouts at Harry. The rain is loud and fast and Zayn can barely see through it, can barely make out the haze of Harry through the water where he’s still backing away from him. Zayn jogs a little to move closer, and Harry freezes in surprise. Zayn wraps his hands around Harry’s upper arms and holds him there. There’s another rumble of thunder and the wind whips the rain across them harshly. “Why are you so scared of putting down roots?”

“Shut up,” Harry spits back, trying to tug his arms free but Zayn just tightens his grip. “You don’t know me!”

“But I do!” Zayn screams, hands dropping their hold on Harry as he throws his arms up in frustration. His shout seems to have shocked Harry into staying still though, so he doesn’t stop. “I do know you, Harry. I know you like to put fruit in your yogurt for breakfast and that _Love, Actually_ is your favorite movie. Or was at least, but I think it still is. I know you want to teach little kids and that you love drawing, even if you’re better at finger painting. I know those tattoos, which you might insist mean nothing, actually mean a lot. I know you’re scared, terrified even, of letting people in and growing attached, but I also know that you’ve already done that without realizing it even if you won’t admit it. I know that you like to read for an hour before you fall asleep because you mentioned it once off-handedly, and I know that some part of you has to like me or you’d never have asked to kiss me when we were thirteen or dragged me up to the nurses office when we were sixteen to have sex. I know you prefer tea or water to coffee and that, recently, you’ve taken up running. And I know you’re scared, I do, but dammit Harry, there’s only so many times you can run away from me before I’ll give up!”

Harry just looks at him, eyes wide and so, so terrified. He looks like a little boy lost out to sea, trying to find his way home or back to some sort of solid ground. Lightning crashes and Zayn blinks. But when he opens his eyes and looks back out, Harry is gone. 

 

* * *

 

 

**_one year ago…_ **

_Zayn knows he’s going to get in trouble once he gets back to his group if someone notices he’s gone; he should really turn around and go back, even though he knows his campers are currently sleeping in the Gym since it’s nearly three in the morning. Still, one of them could wake up and need him, but there were five other counselors up there, so maybe it’s okay. As he follows Harry down the hill and past the adventure course, he tries not to think about it, because he knows Harry has him captivated and he’s not going to stop following him._

_He should though, he really should. This is why he has Danny, and it leaves a bad taste in his mouth to think that, to think that he only has Danny as a way to get over Harry. It’s not true; he does really like Danny, but there’s something holding him back from letting himself really be with him and maybe fall in love with him. And that something is currently five feet in front of him with chocolate curls that hit just above his shoulders, green eyes, a flashlight in his hand (Zayn has one as well) and is moving through the camp with a determined look in his eyes despite it being ridiculously late at night and raining._

_Harry guides him past the adventure course and through the open soccer fields towards the bike trail. Zayn calls out to him to ask what they’re doing and where they’re going, but Harry doesn’t turn back or respond, just steps into the woods on the muddy bike path, leaving Zayn no choice but to follow._

_This isn’t what he expected when he went to bed tonight. He wanted a dry night before the last day of camp, for his campers to behave themselves during camp out night, and for nothing to happen except a few games. But then Harry was straddling his hips and waking him up where he’d been relegated to the Gym with his campers when it started raining, and Zayn couldn’t say no as his clothes were thrown at him along with his shoes. He got dressed without thinking about it, left a post-it note on Louis’ head in case he woke up and Zayn still wasn’t back, and followed Harry down the steps of the Gym and out into the rain._

_Zayn steps carefully on the bike trail. The rain is only a light rain, but it’s been going for long enough that the ground is soggy and muddy and his feet stick in it if he stands in one spot for too long. He follows the light of Harry’s flashlight since he can barely make out his shape in the darkness, his own flashlight pointed at the ground so he can see where he’s walking._

_It takes another five minutes, but then Zayn’s caught up to Harry and he realizes where they are. On the bike trail there’s a turn that leads down to the river. Sometimes, if the campers have biking (and only if they’re the older campers are they allowed on the trail), they’ll skip the bike course and bike down to the trail instead and out to the river. If the water's warm enough, and there’s enough time, the kids are allowed to go in the river, all of them told to step carefully over the rocks as they make their way towards where the water meets the earth._

_At three a.m., in the rain, Zayn doesn’t think it’s the smartest idea to be out here._

_“Harry, what are we doing?” He says as he comes to stand next to Harry, who is currently stopped at the end of the woods where the rocks start and the river sits only a few more feet away. He’s staring out at the water, which is rushing faster than usual due to the rain. Zayn switches his flashlight over to his other hand and curls the now free one around Harry’s, squeezing his fingers a little. “Haz?”_

_“The world’s so dull, Zayn,” Harry whispers, but he doesn’t look at him, choosing to continue to stare at the river instead. “I hate it.”_

_Zayn feels like Harry wants to say something else, but he remains silent. Before Zayn can say anything or try to pull him away and convince him to go back to camp, Harry is stepping forward, his hand slipping free of Zayn’s grip. He moves closer to the water until he’s standing on one of the giant rocks the kids like to cannonball off of. He drops his flashlight and the force of it smashes the front, causing the light to flicker out. Zayn’s own flashlight trained towards him and the cloudy moon above are the only sources of light left._

_Harry’s standing on the rock, his arms out wide and head tilted back as the wind whips his t-shirt against his body. His eyes are closed, and Zayn’s nerves are standing to attention, worried that Harry may fall backwards – on accident, but a tiny part of him thinks maybe on purpose – and go into the river._

_“We shouldn’t be out here!” Zayn yells, stepping out of the woods, off the bike trail, and closer to where Harry is. “We’re going to get fired.”_

_Zayn chooses to say that instead of pointing out how slippery the rocks are and that one misstep could send Harry flying into the water. There’s also the small fact that Zayn can barely swim, so if Harry did fall in, Zayn wouldn’t be able to save him._

_“I don’t care,” Harry shouts, laughing a little but it doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t sound happy or free; it sounds bitter and hurt. “I want to live for once, Zayn.”_

_“You’re already living,” Zayn shouts back, but Harry doesn’t respond. For the first time, Zayn is scared when he’s with Harry; scared of him and for him. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say, all he knows is that he wants to grab Harry and pull him away from the water and the rocks and take him back up to camp. He wants to wrap a blanket around him and keep him safe from the world; wants to love him without being scared that Harry won’t ever love him back._

_He tries not to think about it; he never wants to think about the realization he’d come to at the end of last summer that he was irrevocably in love with Harry. He thought maybe acknowledging it and actively trying to get over it would help, but then his heart jumped at the sight of Harry eight weeks ago when camp started and he knew that he was just as fucked as before. So now he tries to simply ignore it instead and pretend it doesn’t exist._

_It’s hard to do that though, when Harry’s standing there with his arms open to the world like he’s waiting for it to do something, give him something._

_“The world’s so fucking dull,” Harry says again before shouting it into the night’s sky._

_Zayn stands frozen and watches Harry until he steps down from the rock and looks at him, eyes clouded over and tired again instead of bright like they’d been when they got to the river. He then takes his hand and leads him back through the bike trail and towards camp and Zayn wonders if anything about Harry will ever start to make sense._

 

* * *

 

It’s weird the way love starts. It’s this quiet little nothing in a crevice of the heart, and only later, sometimes years later, do you discover that love has washed its way through your veins until it fills all the empty spaces you know you have, and even more you didn’t know existed. The silent killer, really. Everyone expects to fall in love someday; expects to find that one person that they could set fires for with a flick of their fingers. It’s supposed to be an explosion of color and thought and feeling; overwhelming in a way that leaves you breathless but happy to be struggling to breathe. It’s supposed to be loud and obvious, but it’s not quite like that; it’s quiet and whispered, hushed steps and silent feeling.

Zayn’s love for Harry simmered on low for years, worming it’s way through his heart and down his veins, chiseling away at any barriers it found until it was so interweaved in Zayn’s being that he didn’t know how to exist without loving Harry.

*

Harry doesn’t come back that night and Zayn doesn’t see him at camp the next morning. He says goodbye to the campers and to Louis, Liam, and Niall – hugs them tight with the promise to keep in touch and find a weekend for them all to meet up in the city together. Liam hugs him a little longer than the others, and Zayn thinks maybe he’s trying to make up for the fact that Harry isn’t there.

When he drives away from the camp it’s with a heavy heart and an ache in his bones that he worries will never go away.

*

It’s two weeks into the fall semester of his senior year when he wakes up to a text message on his phone from a random number. He’d been out the night before, his flatmate insisting he get out of the apartment and stop moping around. But when he unlocks his phone and reads the message, he knows it’s not from some random person he’d drunkenly given his number to that night.

_I’m sorry. x._

There’s no name attached to it and no other message, but Zayn knows instantly that it’s from Harry. He doesn’t know how Harry got his number, but he has a growing suspicion that Liam had something to do with it. Zayn reads the message five more times as though that will make more words suddenly appear, but it stays the same.

_I’m sorry. x._

Zayn’s not quite sure what to do with this. He doesn’t know if Harry is saying goodbye to him or asking him to come to him. He doesn’t know if he’s apologizing for not being able to get over his fears or if he’s apologizing because he has gotten over his fears but feels it’s too late. He doesn’t know if Harry is sorry for himself or for Zayn; doesn’t know if Harry wakes up every morning with an ache that’s the shape of Zayn, just like Zayn wakes up every morning with an ache that’s the shape of Harry.

He makes the decision quickly, firing off a quick text to his friends to let them know he won’t be coming to lunch with them. By the time he’s showered and dressed, his phone is dinging with a message from Liam – an address, like he’d asked for, followed by another message wishing him luck. A few minutes later his phone pings again, this time with a message from Louis telling him to be careful. Zayn almost smiles at the concern, but then his phone pings again with another message from Louis with a winky face and a picture of a condom, and Zayn starts questioning his friendship.

It’s a thirty minute subway ride to Harry’s apartment, and when he gets to the building, he has no idea what he’s going to say. He doesn’t know if Harry’s home or if Liam’s warned him; doesn’t know if Harry’s text was an invitation to come find him or really a message that it is over and Zayn should stay away permanently. He presses the buzzer with a shaking finger, holding his breath and counting slowly in his head until he hears a muffled “Yeah?”

“It’s Zayn.”

The intercom clicks off and for a brief second Zayn thinks that that’s it; Harry doesn’t want him there, isn’t going to let him in, and Zayn should turn around and go home. But then the lock clicks and Zayn quickly pulls the door open, climbing the two flights of stairs, the apartment number Liam had texted him earlier flashing through his mind.

The door’s already open when he gets there. Harry’s leaning against the door frame, a pair of yoga pants on, a thin white t-shirt, and his curls are loose. He’s barefoot and cupping a mug between both hands, steam slowly drifting off the top as he takes a sip of his tea. Not coffee because Zayn knows Harry very rarely drinks coffee.

Harry turns sideways to let Zayn pass into the apartment, the door falling shut softly behind them.

Now that he’s here, Zayn doesn’t know what to do. He sits down on the couch, eyes darting around the room and taking it in. It’s just a small one-bedroom apartment. There are papers spread out over the coffee table and a guitar in the corner; there’s music coming from the bedroom but it’s muted through the closed door. Harry’s got a random assortment of paintings and drawings hung on the wall, but Zayn focuses on one finger paint drawing in the corner near the door the kitchen. The name Lily is scrawled underneath it and Zayn smiles when he realizes Harry kept it from camp. There’s a desk in the corner of the room with textbooks open on it and the window is open, the cool fall air filtering in. Harry places his tea on the coffee table and sits on the other end of the couch. He leans his back against the armrest, pulling his legs up against his chest. He wraps his arms around them and rests his chin on his knees, eyes focused on Zayn.

“I guess you got my text,” he says, breaking the silence. A trickle of surprise goes through Zayn at the fact that Harry was the one to speak first, and how it almost seems like Harry wants to talk.

“Liam gave me your address,” Zayn says even though it’s fairly obvious.

“I don’t mind.”

Zayn nods stiffly, hands pressing hard against his thighs as he tries to think of what to say. He doesn’t know where they’re supposed to go from here or what Harry wants from him, if he wants anything at all.

“Will you tell me about Gemma?” he asks, giving Harry the option to say no, but he doesn’t want him to take it. He knows Harry’s always been a bit wary of people, or maybe he just never found many people who meant enough to him for him to want them to stay for a while. But Gemma, he knows that shifted something in Harry, changed it from being an involuntarily thing to voluntarily; Harry closed himself off from the world, from his friends, from Zayn, from Liam, and he wants to know why.

He expects Harry to say no, to refuse to answer, but he surprises him.

“She was my best friend,” Harry says quietly. Zayn chances a glance at him, but Harry’s staring off into space, eyes glazed over and Zayn doesn’t mind. He doesn’t disturb the room or the silence or Harry, knows how delicate Harry’s trust in him is right now and that the slightest thing could make him shut himself off again.

“I told her everything, and I think it drove my mom a little nuts. We were always joking around or laughing or pulling a prank. She was my favorite person, and when my parents split, she was the one who sat me down and explained it. I didn’t get it, you know? Because if they loved each other, why would they leave each other? Gemma explained it though, and I just, I trusted her, yeah?”

Harry smiles a little; it’s shaky and it disappears as quickly as it came.

“I was in the car with her when it happened. We were coming back from visiting here.” Zayn knows this already, but he stays silent. “I was telling her some stupid joke and she was laughing and then there was a loud crash and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed and the doctor was telling me I had a sprained wrist and then my parents were telling me that my sister was gone.”

Harry shifts his head so his forehead is against his knees and his face is hidden, shoulders tense as he pulls his arms tighter around himself as though he’s trying to shy away from his own memories. Zayn starts to inch closer, but something tells him to stop, to let Harry do this without him right there. He thinks Harry might’ve forgotten he was even telling this story to Zayn.

“That whole week was so strange.” Harry’s voice is muffled now, but Zayn can still understand him. “I was in a bit of a trance the whole time. People kept calling and flowers were all over the house. And then there was the funeral, and everyone just looked so sad and tired and Liam was holding my hand tight and I don’t think I realized she was gone until I saw her grave, you know? And I lost it. I screamed and tore down the flowers and pushed Liam and ran away. He found me later, and I was so scared. I was so scared I was going to lose him too, because he was the only one I’d let in besides Gemma and my parents, and that had all gone to shit.”

Harry lifts his head and rubs at his eyes. They’re red rimmed and there’s tear tracks on his cheeks. He locks his eyes with Zayn, and it’s like he’s begging Zayn to listen to him, pleading with him to understand.

“I decided then that it was better to just…not care. If I didn’t care, then I couldn’t lose anyone and I wouldn’t have to feel like that ever again.”

“That’s not how it works,” Zayn whispers.

Harry’s lips quirk in a sad smile and he nods. “I know,” he admits. “I’ve always known, but I refused to accept it. So I cut people off, I stopped trying. I never grew attached to people easily anyway, so it wasn’t hard to never let it happen. But you, god Zayn, you weaseled your way through. Louis and Niall did too, and Liam was always underneath my skin. And it scared me, terrified me, but I didn’t know what to do.”

Harry’s fingers are in his hair and he’s pulling slightly at it, so Zayn reaches over to pry his fingers away so he doesn’t hurt himself. He relaxes a little at the touch, but there are still slow tears falling down his face.

“I’m scared,” Harry finally whispers, voice so soft Zayn nearly misses it.

He makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat and opens his arms a little. “It’s okay,” he says as though he’s talking to a scared kitten, and Harry whimpers softly. He crawls forward and tucks himself into Zayn’s side, his legs thrown across Zayn’s lap and his head hidden in the space between Zayn’s shoulder and neck like he always used to do when they were younger and he was upset. Zayn holds him close and for the next hour; all they do is sit on that couch wrapped around each other and breathe. 

“It’s okay to be in love,” Zayn says later on when the sun has shifted in the sky and Harry’s tea has long since grown cold.

“I don’t how to do this,” Harry admits and burrows further into Zayn’s chest if it’s possible. “Everything is screaming at me to run, Z.”

Zayn closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His fingers move slowly over Harry’s shoulder, tracing random patterns against the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

“Why’d you text me, Harry?”

“I missed you,” Harry says easily like that’s the only thing that matters, but Zayn doesn’t quite know what to do with it. He’s never known, even if he always suspected, how Harry felt about him or if he loved him. He never quite knew what Harry wanted for him or why it was even Zayn he came to in the first place. The first year at camp together they connected, and Zayn grew attached to Harry easily and Harry, if he wasn’t with Liam, was always with Zayn. But he doesn’t know what Harry wants, what he expects or needs. “And I…I’ve always counted on the fact that I’d see you again the next summer. But you were gone and I didn’t – I was scared I wouldn’t see you again.”

“You walked away that night,” Zayn reminds him.

“I know.”

Zayn cards his fingers through Harry’s curls, smiling a little when he scratches his scalp and Harry starts to hum under his breath like a purr.

“Do you want this?”

Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a question.

“Do you want me… Us… A relationship?”

Harry pulls out of his arms a little so he can rest their foreheads together, eyes wide and innocent and Zayn cups his face, thumb brushing away a few of the tears still stuck to his cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Harry whispers, eyes dropping a little like he’s ashamed. “I’m scared to let myself have you.”

“Haz,” Zayn says with a laugh, “You’ve always had me.”

Harry nods a little, pressing closer to Zayn for a moment before he pulls back. He grabs a pillow and rests it in Zayn’s lap, stretching out along the couch so he’s lying down. He rests his head on the pillow and stares towards the wall, one arm curling underneath Zayn’s knees where his legs are bent to hold him.

_I’d spoil you, if you’d let me,_ Zayn thinks.

They spend the rest of the day there, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Neither of them says _I love you_ and there’s a silent agreement that they’re not together – not yet. Zayn tells Harry he’s been hurt too many times and he needs time to learn to trust that Harry won’t run away from him. Harry needs time to learn that Zayn isn’t going anywhere and that he can let himself care for him and he doesn’t have to be scared.

They take a cautious step forward out onto the tight rope, both needing to find the place of comfort where they know they have a safety net in each other.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"‘Isn’t it exhausting?’

‘What?’

‘Keeping people out.’"

\- K.A. Tucker.  _Ten Tiny Breaths_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

On New Year’s Eve, the five of them, plus Niall’s new girlfriend, cram themselves into Zayn’s bedroom to drink bad champagne and countdown the New Year together. Louis and Niall watch Harry a bit cautiously when they first show up, but after Zayn presses an encouraging hand to his back, Harry stands up and pulls them both in for tight hugs.

If there’s a glassy look to Louis’ eyes that looks suspiciously like tears when they pull away, no one says anything about it.

Liam comes a little while later, ruffling Harry’s curls with a smile on his face before he plops down in Louis’ lap and steals his glass of champagne to take a long sip. Harry laughs at him and Liam shoots him a playful wink, squirming a little when Louis starts to tickle him in retaliation.

Zayn had gone with Harry two months ago to visit Liam. He’d sat on the couch with his computer to work on some school work while Harry and Liam disappeared into Liam’s bedroom to talk, emerging well after the sun had set with puffy eyes and red cheeks, looking a bit worse for wear but happy all the same. Harry had finally explained – over a little too much alcohol and blushing cheeks, voice wary though and on the verge of tears – that he was just as terrified for Liam as he was for himself. He was scared to be with Zayn, and Zayn knows this. They’ve talked about it relentlessly at this point. Apparently that fear morphed to fear for Liam though, fear for Liam falling in love and losing someone and being hurt. Zayn doesn’t point out how deep Harry’s attachment was, how that simple act proves that Harry was never as closed off to letting people into his life as he thought. He never says anything, but part of him thinks that Harry knows – that Harry was always more self-aware than Zayn realized at the time.

It wasn’t instantaneous, Liam and Harry; their friendship wasn’t fixed in one night alone, but whenever Harry gets scared and tries to pull away, Liam makes sure not to let him.

Zayn does the same. It’s been hard these past few months; he didn’t realize how scared he was himself that he would wind up hurt – that Harry would disappear one day and not return. But instead of running when he gets scared, he calls Zayn. Sometimes Liam, because he’s too scared to even voice the problem to Zayn, but more often than not, it’s Zayn. They learn to trust each other slowly, and Zayn finds that he falls even harder for Harry. Harry asks him to be patient, and Zayn asks Harry to trust that he won’t leave him.

As the night progresses, Liam and Louis get a little too handsy to the point that Zayn pushes them out of his room and into a guest room instead. Niall laughs at that, helping him in the process, before he has to leave to go to another party, and then it’s just Harry and Zayn.

Harry pushes Zayn down onto his bed and crawls over him so they’re laying together, legs wrapped together and foreheads pressed close. Harry’s fingers are trailing over the tattoos on Zayn’s arms, tracing the new lotus that’s just underneath his elbow.

"I'm sorry," Harry breaths, eyes boring into Zayn's and Zayn can see the guilt reflected there. He doesn't like it, doesn't know where it comes from or why Harry feels the need to suddenly apologize. But he does this now, lays Zayn down or sits him down or just simply presses in close and whispers the words like they're the only thing keeping him above water, keeping him from drowning in whatever thoughts are racing through his head. Harry bites his lip and makes to turn his head away, but Zayn's hand on his chin keeps him steady.

"For what?" he asks. It's rare he asks, and even rarer for Harry to answer. There was one time, a month into them reconnecting when they were still very careful with each other - even if it was just a phone call - , Zayn told Harry about an issue he was having at school with a professor and Harry had whispered 'I'm sorry" into the phone, voice crackling and quiet. It wasn't what Zayn expected though; it wasn't the typical "oh, I'm sorry, that sucks" message to get from a friend when something goes a bit awry. No, it felt a bit like Harry was apologizing for the world, a sad tint to his voice that left Zayn wondering what Harry was really apologizing for.

Harry closes his eyes and sniffles. Zayn thumbs at the small tear at the corner of his eye, wiping it away gently before pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead. Harry shivers a little at the touches and Zayn smiles to himself; he likes this, likes that Harry lets him be gentle with him. He never let him before, never let him in close enough for Zayn to love him the way he wanted to, the way he deserved to be, but now Zayn doesn't have to hold back with Harry, or, he doesn't have to hold back as much. They're still working it out, working out who they are and what they are, but Zayn has faith that Harry's working to let him all the way back in, and it's in the quiet moments like this where, even when Harry's upset or scared or worried, he's relaxed and calm in Zayn's arms and lets him comfort him.

"For treating you like you were nothing more than a fuck buddy."

The words stir something sad in Zayn, the memory from the summer and Harry's words rushing back to him but he pushes them away just as fast. They've never talked about it, about that day or how harsh Harry's words had been. He figured it out, eventually. That brief flash of emotion he'd never been able to name, Zayn's seen it enough times now to know what it was: guilt. It was there then and it's coming off Harry now in waves.

"It's okay," he promises and he means it. He'll never tell Harry he wasn't hurt, doesn't want to lie to Harry but he thinks Harry knows, but he moved past it a long time ago. 

"It's not," Harry insists, eyes popping open to stare at Zayn again like he's being ridiculous. "I was terrible to you."

The guilt's there again, written in the lines of Harry's face and etched into every syllable of his words. Zayn can feel it between them like a tangible being. 

"Harry, you have to stop blaming yourself."

Harry shakes his head.

"Yes," Zayn presses. His hands moved down to rest on the sides of Harry's neck, thumbs pressing into the muscles at the base and he feels some of the tension Harry had worked up easing away. "I forgave you a long time ago."

"You should hate me," Harry mumbles, "Scream at me or something."

"I think Liam did enough of that for me."

He wants to take the words back, worries that they'll make Harry feel even more guilty. The first few months after he went to Harry's apartment, before he went to talk to Liam and fix things, Harry had constantly been fretting over his relationship with Liam. He'd eventually worked up the nerve to tell Zayn that another reason he texted him was because Liam yelled at him, made him listen and screamed that Harry was being an idiot and he didn't know how to support someone who wouldn't let themselves be happy, let alone be happy for their best friend. He doesn't want Harry to fall back to that, doesn't want the words to invoke in Harry that worry and shame that he screwed everything up with Liam that he'd never get his best friend back. 

Harry surprises him though, constantly surprises him, and starts laughing instead. They're just small little huffs, his dimples peaking out for a moment because of it and his eyes look a little lighter. "Yeah," Harry whispers and he sounds almost wistful. "He really did."

"You just need to forgive yourself, babe," Zayn says.

Harry sighs and tucks his body even closer to Zayn, foreheads pressed together again as he tucks his leg around Zayn's to lock them together. "I'm working on it."

Zayn smiles a little a tucks a curl that fell into Harry's face back behind his ear.

"I know."

Harry breathes slowly and nuzzles his nose against Zayn's in a little eskimo kiss, causing him to let out a short laugh. 

“I love you,” Harry hums, the words gentle and easy as they fall from his lips, finally telling Zayn the one thing he’s always wanted to hear, but been too afraid to ask about for the past few months.  

Zayn feels a bit like he’s falling as the world shifts, but Harry’s hands against his steady him. He looks into green eyes and he sees the spark behind them again, the dullness long since washed away through late night phone calls and texts and dinners where they wander the city together and talk and explore. He can feel Harry's love, for the first time it burns his insides and leaves him shivering. He can feel it clawing out of Harry like it's alive, desperate to escape with each breath even as the words escape from his lips. It makes him want to cry and laugh until he can't breathe, and then cry and laugh some more.

“I love you, too,” he says simply, because it is simple. They love each other, and Zayn knows it in every fiber of his being. He can't get over it, can't forget it, can't let it be. It's there and tangible and it's a bit absurd, but Zayn feels a bit like he's finally seeing the world clearly. 

Harry smiles at him, eyes crinkling in the corners and his dimples press into his cheeks.

"Took you long enough," he teases with a smile as wide as Harry's.

Harry's smile falters a little, but it stays warm and open. One of his hands finds Zayn and laces their fingers together, tight, like he wants to lock them together forever.

"No," Harry breathes, and there's something a little sad in his voice. "Zayn, I've loved you for a really long time - since before I even knew what love was. I can't remember the last time you weren't my first thought when I woke up and my last thought before I went to bed. It terrified me, Zayn. I felt it in my bones, how much I loved you. It's a bit pathetic, honestly." Harry lets out a choked laugh, and Zayn whispers no, so he knows that's not true. If Harry hears him, he ignores the comment and keeps talking. "I hated you for a long time because of it, but I hated myself more. I couldn't - I should've stopped. When Gem - Gemma died...." Harry takes a deep breath and tucks his face in against Zayn's neck. Zayn's arms wrap tighter around him so Harry is essentially on top of him. His fingers trail over the soft bumps of Harry's spine, soothing him.

"When she died," Harry presses into Zayn's touch and he continues, "I wanted you there, you know? I was only eighteen and I didn't know what was going on or why I wanted  _you_ and I just pushed Liam, I physically pushed him away, because I didn't want him." There's a trace of guilt there and Zayn wonders if he ever told Liam that part of it. He remembers Liam at camp that week, how worried he was and how he felt like he was just making things worse because Harry didn't seem to want him there. 

"I've been scared for three years, Zayn," Harry whispers into his skin. "I've loved you for longer, but I think it realized it then. I felt it so completely, how much I ached to have you near that summer, but I couldn't. I'd just lost G-Gem, and I couldn't... Zayn, I - just - fuck. I c-couldn't."

Zayn wraps his arms tight around Harry and rolls them over so Harry's underneath him, his weight pressing down against him just to remind him that he's  _there._

"It's okay," Zayn tell him. He knows this won't be the last time he has to remind Harry that the past is okay, that it happened, that he understands, that he's still here and he loves him despite it all, despite the hurt and the pain and the confusion Zayn loves him with a fire that could burn the world down. "It's okay, Harry."

Harry nods and there's tears lining his eyes, but he gives Zayn a shaky smile anyway.

“Promise not to leave me?” Harry asks. Zayn can hear the tease in his voice, can see it in the way he smiles wider and the light in his eyes dances a little, the green brighter than he remembers ever seeing. He knows - he's learned it in the way Harry calls him at night before bed if they haven't talked all day because 'I just wanted to hear your voice' - he knows Harry isn't really scared anymore, that he's overcome it and that he trusts Zayn, trusts him to stay and be there in the same way Zayn has come to know with everything he has that Harry isn't going to hurt him this time.  

It's a diversion, and Zayn knows they still have to work through this. But he'll let him have this, let him take a break from it all to just rest together and be. They're together, even if neither of them have said it. Zayn feels it between them like a heartbeat, knows instinctively that after tonight Harry is his and he is Harry's, completely.

“Promise,” Zayn says even though he knows it’s not necessary.

Harry kisses him and the rest of the world falls away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Someday, someone is going to be so soft and gentle with your heart, you're going to be so glad you kept it open. You're going to wonder why you ever thought about quieting it down." -  llleighsmith

**Author's Note:**

> So, I took your summer camp prompt and twisted it with my own thoughts, and here we are. I hope you liked it and it was what you wanted! 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, please :) x you can find me on [tumblr](http://www.whatwasthatharry.tumblr.com) and reblog [the edit](http://whatwasthatharry.tumblr.com/post/134607376323/title-painted-hearts-author) for the fic if you want.


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